


Sands Of Time

by Annaelle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(PREVIOUSLY NAMED UNTITLED) "Here we go again." Ten hours since the last crisis. Just ten. Great. Emma swallows thickly and starts pushing her way through the crowd, yelling, "Sheriff coming through." Finally she manages to break through the last line of people, stopping dead as she takes in the sight before her. It's certainly not what she expected.<br/>CS/OQ/Snowing. Starts the day after the Season 3 finale left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue—Hello, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue to Untitled--the story will be named, but I have not yet decided on a good title :D  
> This picks up the morning after that excellent CS kiss outside of Granny's.

**Prologue **—Hello, Goodbye****

_You say yes, I say no_  
You say stop and I say go, go, go,   
oh no  
You say goodbye and I say hello

_Hello hello_

_I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello_

_Hello hello_

_I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello_

_—Hello, Goodbye, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest—Somewhere into the future**

“Are you sure about this?”

She smiles sadly and nods, before looking down and swallowing thickly. Despite this plan having been in the making for months—years, even—the moment to set it into motion finally being here is overwhelming for both of them, and their impending goodbye weighs heavily on her mind.

She’s sure it does on his too.

“I need to do this,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes once again.

“I know,” he replies sadly, “I know. But… If this works… If you change the past, our lives will be different—we could… There is a possibility we would never meet.”

“I don’t believe that,” she shakes her head immediately, rushing towards him to take his hands in hers. “I _love_ you—I’ll always find you, as you will with me.”

He nods wordlessly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips before sighing heavily, touching the silver pendant around her neck. “Be careful. Promise me you’ll come back to me.” She closes her fingers around his wrist and nods, ignoring the tear that rolls down her cheek.

“I promise.”

“Good,” he chuckles, “Good. Now go. It’s your turn to be the hero.”

His face is the last thing she sees before her vision is filled with bright, blinding white light.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—behind Granny's Diner—Present time**

Emma chuckles when Killian presses her against the wall in the alley, eagerly attacking every inch of skin he can reach with kisses. “Killian,” she groans, patting his shoulder half-heartedly—he looks so happy and carefree and _sweet_ , and she’s never seen him look like this before and she doesn’t want the look to ever disappear.

“Come on,” she moans when he presses his lips to her cheek and lingers, “my parents are right around the corner.”

“I’m well aware, darling,” he breathes, his fingers playing idly with her hair—she really doesn’t understand his obsession for it, but it’s cute, so she lets him. “It _is_ why you decided we ought to hide in this alley.”

She knows he does not mean for it to sound like he is hurt or bitter, but she knows that the feelings are there nonetheless, and she hates that she’s pushed him away so many times he’s decided it’s okay if she’s ashamed of _them_ , as long as there is a them.

“Hey,” she tugs on his hair gently to get him to look up at her. “I’m not ashamed of this,” she says slowly, “and I don’t regret a damn thing about last night. I just…” She sighs heavily and shakes her head, “I think we should not flaunt anything for a while. You know, with Regina and Robin and Marian…”

She trails off awkwardly and pouts again—she didn’t mean to ruin Regina’s second chance at love, but she refuses to feel bad for saving an innocent woman’s life and reuniting a little boy with his mother.  Killian pointed that out to her yesterday, after Regina stormed out of the diner and Henry followed her, and it made a lot of sense.

Of course, she was a little distracted by getting all of that leather _off_ her pirate for the rest of the night—and most of the following morning—so she hadn’t checked in with Henry yet.

“Love,” Killian rubs his thumb over her cheek gently, “the Queen must fight this battle herself. If she truly loves Robin, she will fight for him, and she will not allow anything or anyone to stop her.” His eyes are _blue_ and _sincere_ and her heart is pounding—she has to remind herself she can’t be in love with him yet; it’s too soon.

Too soon after Graham, too soon after Walsh—though she would _really_ rather forget he ever even existed.

“Like you?” She questions playfully, tugging on his necklace with a small smile.

“Aye, Swan,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss her again, “Like me—a man, or woman, in the Queen’s case, who doesn’t fight for what she wants, deserves what she gets.”

“Really?” Emma drawls, pulling him forward by the chain, “So… What _do_ you deserve for everything you’ve done for me?” His answering grin is downright lecherous, and she’s suddenly _very_ glad there’s no one around to see them.

“Oh, I believe I reaped the rewards for my efforts last night, love,” he smirks smugly, nudging his nose against hers, “Several times.”

She just rolls her eyes and kisses him again.

She has no idea how long they’ve been in the alley before they’re interrupted— _of course_ they are—by Leroy, who’s screaming about being attacked and portals.

“Seriously?” Emma pouts, dropping her head to Killian’s shoulder, “Is one day too much to ask? It’s been like ten hours since the last town crisis.” He chuckles and rubs his hand over her back soothingly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Ah, such is the life of the Savior, love,” he grins, “Come, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

She lets him drag her back onto Main Street, where they immediately stumble upon a large crowd forming. Snow is standing at the back, Graham in her arms, craning her neck to see what’s going on.

“Mom,” Emma exclaims, “What’s going on?”

She ignores the way Snow looks between her and Killian—it’s probably because he’s not wearing his vest and coat (she _may_ have been a little too enthusiastic about removing them and broken a few of the clasps on the vest)—and tiptoes, trying to look over the still growing crowd.

“I don’t know,” Snow replies slowly, still glancing back and forth between Emma and Killian, “there was a huge flash of light and a wave of… Well, some kind of magic, and then people started yelling and pointing before I could really see what was going on.”

“Okay,” Emma sighs, shaking her head, “Here we go again.” She swallows thickly and waits until she’s sure Killian will be right next to her—he always is—before she starts pushing her way through the crowd, yelling, “Sheriff coming through. Stand aside, let me through!”

Finally she manages to break through the last line of people, stopping dead as she takes in the sight before her.

It’s certainly not what she expected.

Before her stands a tall, dark-haired girl dressed in full Enchanted Forest gear—and she does mean that literally. She’s wearing leather pants, knee-high leather boots, white linen shirt, a heavy leather belt with two guns and, when she turns, Emma sees a sword strapped to her back.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, _anything_ , when the girl suddenly gasps loudly, her eyes—green, _green_ eyes—widening in surprise. Emma turns to find Killian and her mother standing behind her, and for the life of her, Emma can’t figure out why they seemed to shock the girl so intensely.

“Who are you?” Emma says slowly, turning back to the newcomer, “Why are you here?”

“I’m—” she stutters, and Emma’s slightly taken aback by the girl’s soft accent, “I’m… _Anna_ ,” she finishes, “You may call me Anna.”

 _Lie_.

But not really.

Emma tilts her head to the side and regards _Anna_ closely. “That’s not your name,” she deadpans, feeling Killian tense slightly behind her.

“No,” Anna smiles tightly, “But I cannot tell you who I really am. You’ve travelled to the past.” She gestures to Emma and Killian, “You know what it’s like. I cannot divulge too much.” Emma’s eyes widen and she gapes at the girl.

“You are from a different time?” Killian questions slowly, stepping up close behind Emma, resting his good hand on the small of her back—she relaxes just a little bit and scolds herself for how much she needs him by her side before returning her attention to the strange girl.

“Aye,” Anna nods slowly, “Twenty or so years into the future.”

“So why are you here?” Snow interjects kindly, eyeing the girl nervously.

“To help,” Anna replies immediately, “And to insure what has come to pass by the time I was born does not happen.”

“Why would we need your help?” Emma frowns confusedly, “I thought the timeline wasn’t supposed to be altered.” Killian nods silently, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Emma’s shirt without thinking about it. Emma smiles a little at the move, knowing he is subconsciously trying to anchor himself to her so he will not lose her to another portal.

“I don’t think you’ll mind me altering this timeline,” Anna sighs gravely, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

“And why’s that?” Emma crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow.

“Cause if I don’t help you, most of you will be dead within a week.” 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	2. Chapter One—Let It Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, here I am again with the first chapter to Untitled. A couple of things before you start reading..
> 
> First, I do have the entire story planned out-at least, the plot line, flashbacks and general ending, but I don’t know how long it’s going to be just yet. I do know I will name every chapter with a matching Beatles song (if I can find them :p) and that it will ALWAYS include at least one flashback, and sort of built like an actual Once Upon episode.
> 
> If I can manage that, that is ^^
> 
> Can’t promise regular updates either, but I try, lovelies, I try.
> 
> Second, you may remember that our mysterious traveller from the future named herself as ‘Anna’. This will stay the same, but when we’re talking of Elsa’s sister, it will be spelled ‘Ana’ with one ‘n’, just so you know the difference.
> 
> Third, this WILL be confusing before it becomes clear. Just so you know :D There will be some canon stuff hidden in here too.
> 
> Fourth, I absolutely refuse to call Baby Charming ‘Neal’, so I named him Graham in this fic-just a head’s up so you don’t get too confused.
> 
> And, last but not least, thank you to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta’ing this for me and listening to my rants about OUAT, Captain Swan and life in general.
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!

**Chapter One **—Let It Be****

_And when the broken hearted people_  
Living in the world agree  
There will be an answer,

_Let it Be_

_For though they may be parted_  
There is still a chance that they will see  
There will be an answer

_Let it Be_

_—Let It Be, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest—Some time into the future**

Emma blinks confusedly as they emerge from the portal, taking in the sight of what would have been her fatherland had the Curse not been cast. Had they not been sent to Storybrooke—they might’ve all been alive now, if they’d never been in Storybrooke.

The thought of all those who were lost in the battle with the Ice Queen makes her heart ache and her knees almost give out—she still doesn’t know how to keep going, how to survive on her own.

It  _hurts_ , and she  _can’t_ , she can barely breathe without  _him_ , without  _them_.

“Mom?”

Her head snaps up and she looks up at her son, her beautiful boy—she needs to keep him safe, she needs to keep all of them safe.

They’re all she has left and she can’t lose them too.

“I’m okay,” she says firmly, and she almost believes it, “I’m fine.”

Henry’s eyes flash down to her stomach—it’s barely visible, but it’s there, the undeniable curve of her baby bump. She swallows thickly and shakes her head, her hand falling to cover the small bump. “The baby’s fine too. Where’s Dav—dad with baby Graham? We should get going.”

“I’m here,” David appears behind her, baby Graham cradled in his arms, “We can go—Ruby is going with us to the castle, as are most of the others. Marion took Roland and some of the Merry Men and left us.”

Emma winces—she feels responsible for the rift that the Ice Queen caused between Marion and the rest of them—but nods and sighs. “I expected as much,” she admits, “she blames us for Robin…” David rests his hand on her shoulder, and she nearly shatters when she realizes that despite his own pain and grief, he is still trying to make  _her_  feel better.

She hates that—she can’t stand it.

She doesn’t deserve to be comforted—she should have been able to stop the Ice Queen before she killed so many people. Before she destroyed the bonds of friendship and family that were holding Storybrooke’s community together.

She shrugs off his hand and turns away from him, gazing at the castle before them. “Let’s just go,” she says evenly, “there’s no use standing out here doing nothing.”

No one contradicts her, but they all simply follow her as she starts walking. She rubs her belly absent-mindedly, her mind whirring as she tries to accept the enormous changes in her life—she is no longer in Storybrooke; she’ll probably never even see the world she’d grown up in again; she doesn’t have… she doesn’t have anyone but Henry and David and baby Graham and a few of the villagers that decided to stick with them.

And this baby.

She glances down at her barely swollen belly.

She has this baby—and she’s going to make sure that he or she has everything she never had; that she never got the chance to give Henry.

This baby will know its loved.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Present day**

Emma doesn’t like cold.

Never has, honestly—when she was four, shortly after the Swans had given her back, there had been a very cold winter, and the all the other children in the orphanage had been delighted. Emma hadn’t understood—all she could think of was how  _cold_  it was, and that everyone else had nice, warm jackets so the cold wouldn’t bother them.

She didn’t.

All she had was a flimsy sweater that did little to protect four-year-old Emma from the harsh elements, and she had gotten really sick over and over again that winter.

She’d hated cold ever since.

Knowing that, trudging through the woods with a girl who claims she’s from the future with an icy cold headwind seemingly blowing right through her warm scarf and jacket does not help with Emma’s rapidly increasing bad mood.

“So,” Emma shivers, “Are you sure we’re heading in the right direction?” She rethinks the question and sighs exasperatedly, “Scratch that, how do you even know what direction we’re heading in? I thought you said you’re from the Enchanted Forest.” She slows to a stop and eyes Anna suspiciously—she  _knows_  Anna is trying to help, the girl hadn’t been lying about that, but she’d been  _very_ evasive about everything else, including the things she knows about their future.

Anna turns and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Emma a little. “Look, I already told you we’re looking for Elsa—her magic manifests in ice and snow. Look around,” she gestures impatiently at the forest that surrounds them, “the cold and snow has been getting worse and worse—that’s how I know we’re heading in the right direction.”

Emma  _really_ wants to retort snappily, but Anna’s right, the cold  _has_  been getting worse and there are little patches of snow and ice ahead of them—they have to be close.

She really hopes they are.

She doesn’t like not being a hundred percent sure that Anna will have her back, but Anna had been adamant that Killian  _didn’t_  go with them, and Emma believed her enough to agree and send Killian to find King George with David and Regina.

She still only knows part of the story that brought Anna here, and she’s not sure if she’ll ever really know the whole story—especially if Anna succeeds in saving everyone, like she says she plans to. Emma also doesn’t like knowing how uncomfortable Anna is around some of them—it only serves to make her more suspicious of the girl’s motives, even though she doesn’t think Anna’s there to harm them in any way.

She briefly recalls their conversation, back in the loft, as she and Anna start walking again.

.

.

.

_The silence in the room is deafening, and everyone stares at Anna as she fidgets nervously._

_“How do we know you’re not lying to us?” Snow’s tone is anything but accusing, but Anna flinches anyway—something, Emma’s noticed, she does more often when Snow or Killian speak to her—the poor girl can barely get a word out, and despite not knowing a damn thing about her, Emma feels bad for her._

_Anna’s obviously nervous and a little scared, and having everyone—and she does mean everyone, from Regina and her parents to Ruby, Granny and the dwarves—stare at her like this can’t be helping. Emma exchanges a quick glance with Killian, her stomach doing a funny fluttery thing when he smiles at her and squeezes her hand._

_She knows he’s noticing the same thing as she is, and though they’re all very curious to know who Anna is and why she’s here, it’s not going to help anyone if Anna’s too overwhelmed to get more than two words out._

_“Okay,” Emma speaks up slowly, looking around the room, “Maybe we should… Anna, would it be easier to talk to me? Just me? Or someone else?”_

_Anna’s eyes widen fractionally, and Emma can’t help but study her all over again—there’s still something about Anna that makes Emma feel at ease and very nervous at the same time and she hates that._

_Anna’s eyes drift from one to the other, and once again, Emma notices the flash of… something in her eyes as she glances at Snow and Killian—even Granny seems to make her uncomfortable._

_She wonders if she’s met them, in the future._

_If she really is from the future, that is._

_“I… I suppose,” Anna finally says hesitantly, her eyes finally resting on Emma again, “I suppose I should inform you and, uh—” she swallows thickly, “David, perhaps? If that is acceptable. I am simply attempting to keep anyone from dying.”_

_Emma’s not sure about anything right now—but she believes her. She believes that Anna is honestly trying to save all their lives._

_Emma glares at Grumpy when he starts to protest—loudly, of course—and offers Killian a reassuring smile as he gets to his feet reluctantly. “I suppose we should take our leave for now then.” He eyes the others in the room, and surprisingly, everyone follows his lead, excusing themselves and slowly leaving the loft until only Henry, Snow, Charming, Regina and Killian are left._

_Snow eyes Anna suspiciously and slowly suggests, “We’ll just… Go upstairs. I could use some help moving Graham’s changing table.”_

_“But of course, milady,” Killian bows smoothly, “It would be my pleasure. Come lad,” he claps his hand on Henry’s shoulder, “Let’s go see what we can do for your grandmother.”_

_Emma watches them leave the room—they look adorable together—and shoots Regina a warning glare before she follows Snow and the boys up the stairs. “Okay,” she drawls after a short, tense silence, “So… Someone’s coming to hurt us? And Elsa has something to do with it?”_

_Anna nods tersely, still fidgeting uncontrollably._

_David and Emma exchange a look, and Emma’s comforted to know that David has her back. “How do we know you’re not trying to distract us so they can just kill us when we least expect it?”_

_Anna bites her lip and sighs, sinking onto the chair Charming had procured for her earlier. “Well,” she drawls slowly, “You could ask Emma… She would be able to tell if I was lying, would she not?”_

_Emma narrows her eyes at the girl, suspiciously trying to discern a lie—there has to be one, right? Who would know so much about them and not try to use it against them? “How do you know about that? Actually—how do you know so much about us to begin with?”_

_Anna groans again, shaking her head exasperatedly. “I told you,” she exclaims, “I cannot tell you—I cannot risk divulging too much. I might have already changed things for the worse simply by telling you I am from the future—I promise that I am here simply to help. I wish for all of you to find your Happy Ending, and I am here to see to it that you do. All of you.” Her eyes stray towards Regina before they return to Emma, and her eyes are wide and pleading, and damn it, Emma can’t find anything but sincerity in Anna’s eyes._

_“Fine,” Emma grumbles, “Fine. So we need to find this Elsa girl before she freezes the entire town by accident? That’s it?”_

_Anna nods, and Emma grunts, grinning at her dad. “Well, we’ve faced worse than that.”_

_Before David can reply, Anna sighs and shakes her head again. “No, you have not,” she declares ominously. “Elsa is not the true threat,” she continues when Emma glares at her, “She is a minor threat—a distraction from a greater and more formidable foe.”_

_“A distraction how, exactly?” Regina pipes in from where she stood hidden behind a wooden pillar, looking highly uncomfortable sitting in the same room as Emma.  Anna stiffens immediately, but Emma’s focus is still on Regina, and she suddenly feels really guilty for ruining her second chance with Robin—she knows Regina is mad at her._

_Emma can’t blame her—she’s relieved she managed to convince Regina to come here at all._

_Anna eyes everyone in the room nervously before shrugging and deflating. “I am not certain. I mean—” she adds quickly, “I know who it is, but I don’t know where they are. I was led to believe that one of them is an old nemesis of yours and Snows,” she nods towards Charming, “A father, or father in law, perhaps?”_

_“King George?” Charming frowns, “I thought he’d been locked up…”_

_“Okay, so we need to find this Elsa and King George?” Regina raises an eyebrow at Anna and rolls her eyes, “I still fail to see why we would need your help in this—we are by far capable of dealing with a mad old king and a frightened little girl.”_

_Something flashes in Anna’s deep blue eyes and Emma jumps when one of the light bulbs bursts. “No,” Anna hisses, “You are not. In fact, that arrogance is what got you killed. It is not just those two—Elsa can be an ally if you are able to get to her in time and if we can take George out, she’ll be working on her own and won’t have any inside knowledge of you.”_

_Emma stares at Anna warily, suddenly unsure if Anna’s really as innocent in her intentions as she claims to be—Emma knows magic when she sees and feels it, and whatever burst that light bulb, it was magic._

_“Calm down,” David suddenly interrupts, drawing Anna’s eyes to him, “we believe you. Who else is out there? If George and Elsa are not the real threat, who is?”_

_Anna fidgets nervously and bites her lip as she drawls, “Well… I do not know exactly who she is. But I know what to look for—when I see her, I will know.” Regina snorts derisively and Anna’s eyes lock back onto the Queen—Emma swears that if looks could kill, Regina would be a pile of ash on the floor._

_“Okay,” she shakes her head, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves—how about we find the people we actually know first? Dad, maybe you should go looking for King George…” She hesitates and offers, “Anna, maybe you can go with him, and Killian and I will go looking for Elsa.”_

_“No,” Anna shakes her head, “I will go with you to find Elsa. Hook may go with David to find George.”_

_Emma’s eyes widen a little, panic seeping through her usually calm façade—she doesn’t want to go anywhere without Killian by her side; it’s scary to trust him so much, but she knows he’ll always have her back if they’re attacked, and that’s what she needs in a situation like this._

_“Look, Anna,” she says slowly, “No offence, but—”_

_Anna shakes her head and stalks forward, looking Emma straight in the eye—it is unnerving—, “No. I have to go with you, and Killian has to go with David. Please,” the girl pleads, “If there was ever a time to start listening to me, this is it. Please.”_

_There’s some kind of desperation in Anna’s eyes that makes Emma feel uncomfortable and sad at the same time, and she realizes that whatever will happen if Killian were to come with her to find Elsa, it scares Anna—and that scares Emma too._

_“Okay,” she acquiesces, “Okay, fine. Dad, you and Killian go look for George..” she hesitates for a moment and shoots Regina a wary look, “Take Regina with you—just in case.”_

_David doesn’t seem all too pleased, but nods nonetheless, standing up and offering Regina an uneasy smile. “Shall we, Regina?” He doesn’t seem fazed when Regina shoots him a withering glare before stalking out the door, leaving everyone in silence for a moment. “Well,” David coughs stiffly, “That went well. I’ll just go get Ho—Killian… And I’ll tell Snow to stay put with Henry and Graham.”_

_Emma smiles tightly and follows him up the stairs, already mentally preparing a speech to get her pirate to comply and go with her father instead of her and Anna._

_It’s not going to be easy._

_It never is._

.

.

.

“So,” Emma drawls after walking in silence for another few minutes, “You have magic?”

She doesn’t miss the way Anna stiffens for a split-second, her eyes nervously seeking out Emma’s, before she nods curtly. “Aye. I was born with it—I was lucky to have someone to help me learn how to control it as I grew up.”

She turns to Emma and offers her a sad smile, “I am aware you did not have this—and if I remember correctly, neither did Elsa. That is why she is unleashing her magic like this. It is linked to her stronger emotions, like fear and love… I imagine she is quite frightened by now, having awoken in a new, unfamiliar world.”

It makes a lot of sense, when she puts it like that, and Emma shrugs. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, mine’s unpredictable too. It gets stronger when I—” she cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and startled as they break through the trees onto a clearing, where several large snow monsters— _really, snow monsters too? Couldn’t the girl just go with adorable little Olaf? Emma wouldn’t mind that snow man so much_ —are waiting for them, growling and hissing threateningly.

“No,” Anna grabs Emma’s hand as she moves to draw her gun, “No, don’t. They are no threat—they will not harm us unless we harm them.”

Emma gapes at Anna incredulously, shaking off the girl’s hand, “Seriously?”

“Aye,” Anna glares, “Now be silent.” She turns back towards the snow monsters and tentatively calls out, “Elsa? Elsa, I know you are there. Please—we’re not here to harm you, we’re here to help. You’re looking for your sister, yes? I believe I know where I can find her, but please… Please, Elsa, come out.”

Emma stares at her, sincerely doubting Anna’s sanity for a moment, before the snow men suddenly part, revealing a tall, pale, beautiful woman in a sparkling blue dress, with eyes bluer than the skies on a cold, clear winter day.

Holy shit.

She even looks like the woman from the movie.

Emma almost chuckles—after getting almost every other fairy tale character wrong, they finally managed to get one right with this one.

“You know my sister?” The woman—who must be Elsa—says shakily, though Emma can see that she is attempting to sound strong and intimidating.

Anna steps forward hesitantly, eyeing the large snow men on either side of her before she replies, “No—but I know of her. I am not from here, so I do not know precisely where she is, but—” she turns around and beckons Emma quickly, “This is Emma. She is the Sheriff, and she can help you find your sister.”

She nearly protests—she’s the Saviour, she has more on her mind than looking for some girl wayward sister—but then she catches the pleading look on Anna’s face and sighs, deciding to play along, for now. Anna had made it very clear that having Elsa on their side would only help their cause, and Emma supposes that’s more important than whether or not she has time to look for Elsa’s sister.

“Yeah,” Emma gives Elsa tense smile—holy shit, she can’t believe she’s actually talking to her; she remembers watching the movie in New York with Henry—and takes a few steps forward. “I can—I’m good at finding people. Do you, uh—”

She glances at the large snow men, “—you think you could get your bodyguards to stand down?”

For a split-second, it looks like Elsa will agree—like they will get out of this scot-free—but then a loud bang startles them all, and the snow and cold wind pick up around them, the ground beneath Emma’s feet shaking as it freezes completely.

“Shit,” Emma curses as she slips, grabbing onto the nearest tree to hold herself up.

She glances at Anna, who seems remarkably put together, but terrified at the same time as she tries to reason with Elsa, whose hands are raised defensively as the snow monsters surround them.

“No,” Elsa hisses, “No, you bring Ana to me—” Emma almost misses the way her eyes flit over to her before she’s suddenly encased in ice, trapped in a cocoon of thick, impenetrable ice and  _shit,_ she curses to herself as the impact and consequences of her imprisonment hit her.

“Hey!” She yells, pounding her fists on one of the walls, “Let me out! Anna! Elsa!”

She can’t hear anything, and the icy cold of the walls is starting to creep through her clothes, making her shiver—she doesn’t know what’s going on out there, and this is  _why_ she wanted Killian to come with her  _damnit_.

She’s cold and scared and her magic won’t work and she has no idea when they’re coming for her— _if_  they’re coming for her.

For all she knows, Anna was working with Elsa all along.

Emma rubs her hands over her arms in a desperate attempt to stay warm, trying not to get discouraged by the numbness that is already spreading from her fingers and toes. Killian and her dad will come for her—that’s what her family does.

 _At least_ … She pounds her fist on the thick ice one more time before giving up…  _She hopes they will._

She has to believe in them—in their love for her. As hard as it may be to believe, she knows that her parents and her son and her pirate love her and she needs to trust that love.

She needs to believe in it.

She needs to know  _she_  is loved—however unfeasible it still seems in her own eyes.

She is loved.


	3. Chapter Two—Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!
> 
> I hope this doesn't get lost in all the CS Date love and drama, but here, have a chappie ;) Just so you know, the scene where Emma is trapped in ice and nearly freezes was planned long before 4x02 came out, which is why I didn't write a 4x02 oneshot ;) Consider this chapter that oneshot :D
> 
> Now, on with the show! I'd love to hear your opinion and guesses as to who will figure out who Anna is first ;)
> 
> Thank you to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing this for me and listening to my rants about OUAT, Captain Swan and life in general.
> 
> R&R, darlings! It feeds the musie-she's a greedy little bitch ;)
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!

****

**Chapter Two **—Yesterday****

_Suddenly, I am not half the man I used to be_

_There's a shadow hanging over me_

_Oh, yesterday came suddenly_

_Why she had to go I don't know_  
She wouldn't say  
I said something wrong, now I long for  
Yesterday

 _Yesterday_  
Love was such an easy game to play  
Now I need a place to hide away

_—Yesterday, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest—little less than a year into the future**

"She's really beautiful, mom."

Emma smiles sadly at Henry from her position in her bed, swaddled up in blankets and soft pillows as she recovers from giving birth to her daughter. It had been a very difficult and long birth, and even three days later, Emma is still tired and sore—she can barely get herself to move.

Her pregnancy, though in many ways a lifeline over the past nine months, has taken a lot out of her.

And though Henry's tried to keep it together for the four of them—for her, for the baby, for baby Graham, for her dad—she knows he is exhausted too.

Sometimes, it is just too easy to forget that she is not the only one who is grieving—that she is not the only one who lost a lover, a friend,  _family_. Sometimes, she  _wants_  to forget, because if she does, it is easier to be angry and hurt and snap at everyone who approaches her.

If she forgets, she does not have to feel guilty about being mean and rude afterwards.

She chokes back a sob as she watches Henry lift his baby sister carefully, staring at her almost as though he's in awe—maybe he is.

She had been, when her baby had first been placed into her arms. She had been in awe that she had been able to create something so delicate and beautiful—so fragile, but already so powerful. When the baby cried yesterday, all the windows in the room had shattered, and Emma had been grateful for her practices with Elsa—she had had enough control to throw up a protection spell around her and her beautiful little baby girl so they wouldn't be harmed by the glass shards that had flown around the room.

It'd sent Elsa and her father into a frenzy to find a bracelet to control the baby's magic until she is old enough to learn to do it herself—but all Emma had been able to muster up was awe.

Awe that something so powerful and beautiful and small is  _hers_.

"She is," Emma finally whispers in reply when Henry moves to sit next to her on the bed, his baby sister cradled in his arms, "and she looks just like him. She even has his eyes." !The thought of his crystalline blue eyes, eyes that could always see right through her, makes her heart clench painfully, as though the shard of ice that had been lodged in his heart and that killed him has found its way into her own heart after all and is now slowly trying to kill her from the inside out.

The mere memory of him  _hurts_ , and it makes her feel sick, because she'd  _loved_ him—because he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and he deserves better than to have his memory associated with nothing but pain—because her daughter looks just like him, and she can't look at her without hurting.

But she can't  _stop_  looking either.

Maybe she truly is a masochist.

Henry smiles sadly too, chuckling when the baby waves her arms around in that uncoordinated way babies do and reaches for his finger. "You know it might change," he says softly, uncertainly, "her eye colour… She might get yours eventually."

Emma shakes her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she looks down at her baby, "No… No, she'll have his eyes—he'll still be with us through her." !Henry nods slowly, playfully tugging on the baby's hand, trying to elicit a smile from the baby—even though they both know a three-day-old baby can't actually smile yet.

Henry grins when the baby scrunches her nose and starts wiggling insistently in his arms, and he bumps his shoulder against Emma's playfully as he hands her the baby—he's been around baby Graham long enough to recognize the signs of a child that is about to throw a tantrum because she's hungry. "You better feed the monster, mom. I think I heard her scream all the way in my room yesterday. For such a tiny thing, she sure has a big pair of lungs."

Emma chuckles, shrugging off the loose shirt she's wearing and guiding her daughter's hungry little mouth to her breast. She gasps when the baby finds her nipple and starts drinking greedily—breastfeeding is the oddest sensation, and though she knows it's good for bonding with her child, she doesn't  _really_  regret not having had the chance to do this with Henry.

She's in the same boat now as she was when she was seventeen—it feels like she is—and she's still not sure how to do  _this_.

How to be a mother and  _not_  screw up.

She'd been broken before, after Neal, after Walsh, but she'd been able to be strong then, she hadn't been shattered so badly she couldn't remember how to breathe on her own.

But she is now—and so is her dad.

She doesn't have anyone to look to anymore.

Elsa will help, and so will Ruby, but they have both suffered heavy losses in the battle too and Emma doesn't know  _how_  to let them help.

How to let anyone but Henry and her dad near her precious little baby.

Her beautiful little girl that is the only link she has left to her pirate—her dashing, courageous,  _loving_  pirate. She misses him more than anything, and she knows that he would have been overjoyed to know that he had given her a daughter.

He'd have wanted to be here.

He would never have left her if he had known—she's sure about that. Surer than she had been about Neal—she's thought about him too, over the course of her pregnancy, and she's wondered what her life would have been like had Neal known of her pregnancy  _before_  he left.

She knows that Killian would have done everything he could to stay.

She knows that.

But she's not so sure about Neal.

And that, knowing that she couldn't trust he'd have stayed, helped give her some closure—helped her realize that even if she'd have given Neal a chance before he'd died, it wouldn't have worked. It would have ended anyway, because she  _knows_  she couldn't have trusted him with her heart.

Not like she trusted Killian.

"So," Henry drawls slowly, drawing her attention back to him, "Did you decide on a name yet?"

Emma looks at her daughter with a small, tender smile, gently lifting her daughter's tiny hand from where it was pushing on her sensitive breast. "Yeah," she says softly, "Leia—for the last adventure her father and I had. And Mary for—" she breaks of as another tear rolls down her cheek.

She doesn't need to finish that last sentence.

She knows Henry knows.

Henry is silent for a moment, obviously mulling over his baby sister's name before he smiles brightly and nods. "Leia Mary Jones. It does have a nice ring to it."

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Sheriff's Station—Present time**

"She's  _what_?!"

Killian watches as Anna flinches at David's shouted inquiry, uncertain of how to take Anna's disheveled and panicked state—it is more than obvious she did not expect Elsa to capture Emma and pressure them into finding Elsa's sister. He sighs and turns to David, clapping his hand on the man's shoulder while trying to keep himself under control—Emma needs him with a clear head.

"David, this is not helping. Anna is not to blame for someone else's actions." He turns back to Anna, raising a single eyebrow when her eyes flash with something—something he cannot and dares not identify.

He is silent for a moment before he shakes it off and continues, "Do you know where Elsa's sister is?"

Anna bites her lip and shakes her head. "No—no. I know that she  _is_  here, and that her name is Ana, but I don't know  _where_  she is. I thought that… If we found Elsa before  _she_  did, we'd be fine. She knows how to control her magic—I know she does." Her voice is shaky and unsteady, and Killian is not sure what to make of her obvious concern for Emma.

He supposes it makes sense that she cares for them—why else would she have traveled back in time to save them?—but it is still quite startling to witness.

"We need to get Emma out of there," Anna continues, her voice a little steadier, but not much, "As soon as possible." Her eyes flash with green and Killian nearly jumps when he feels the familiar tingle of magic rush through the station before Anna's eyes flash back to their usual intense blue.

"I tried to break through it," Anna continues, "But I couldn't get past the ice—it was like there was a magical barrier that prevented my magic from getting to Emma… I've never—" she shakes her head and sighs, running her fingers through her hair, "I've never felt anything like it before. It's the first time I've ever felt anything that was stronger than my magic. I don't know what it is…"

She meets Killian's gaze head-on and sighs, "But it's not Elsa. She seemed surprised as well—before she took advantage of the situation to demand Ana's safe return."

"Fine," David sighs, "I suppose we could conduct a search of the town, ask people if they know her… That's how we usually manage to find people here; especially after this second Curse." David sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead, "Maybe Snow and Henry could help too…"

"We don't have time!" Anna exclaims suddenly, and Killian feels horribly unsettled at the panic in her voice, "She's  _freezing to death_! We need to get her out now!"

David is still talking, but neither Killian nor Anna is listening to him—Killian's eyes are fixed upon Anna, who seems quite unsettled. He notes that she is shivering, and her fingertips are tinged with blue. He does not know, nor does he care, how she knows that Emma is freezing, but it seems that she has somehow connected herself to his Swan.

If it is a spell, it is a clever one.

There is no better way to monitor Emma's health than to  _feel_  it. However, the effect that it seems to be having on Anna  _is_  slightly worrying, and he does not know how much help Anna can be if she is experiencing Emma's feelings.

"Anna," Killian interrupts David's monologue, "How bad is it?"

His voice is shaking, but he cannot help it—he is terrified.

Despite Anna's assurances that Elsa is  _not_  evil and on their side, he is  _terrified_  of losing Emma, and he feels so  _useless_. He cannot fight Elsa's magic—he cannot find Elsa's sister to have her return Emma—he can barely think straight.

Anna's eyes meet his, and he does not even flinch when her eyes flash from deep, rich blue to forest green before she replies. "She's bad—I don't think she's even conscious anymore. We need to get her out  _now_." Her eyes fall to her own fingers, and she shivers as she stutters, "S—she's turning blue."

The urgency and fear in her voice are palpable, and it shuts both him and David up for a moment.

Killian almost feels as though the air has been punched out of his lungs.

He cannot fathom the idea of losing Emma—not Emma. He has survived the loss of his brother, of his Milah, of Bae—twice, at that—but he cannot survive losing his Swan. He will not be able to go on without her, and he is not being melodramatic either.

He is simply realistic—Emma had given him a reason to want to live once again. If he were to lose Emma, he would lose that love, that will to live.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He shifts impatiently, and he would have left already had he had any clue  _where_  Elsa and Emma are. His earlier calm completely evaporated when Anna told them that Emma is freezing—now he can only think of getting to her and saving her and never letting her out of his sight ever again.

"Come on, mate," David sighs, "we can't just run up there half-cocked without a plan."

Killian glares at David as Anna throws her hands up exasperatedly, "Well, we have to do something! The—she's freezing. She doesn't have much longer." Both Killian and David stare at her, alarmed by how faint Anna's voice is. Killian's eyes widen as he realizes just how pale she is—her fingertips are almost completely blue and frosted and her lips are tinged with purple.

He turns back to David to give him a pointed look—to which the Prince finally responds with understanding, jumping into action and leading them both back to the large truck.

He doesn't even jump when the automobile emits a loud roar when David makes it move—all he can think of is his Swan, and his hope that they will be in time.

They have to be in time.

.

.

.

Cold.

All she feels is cold.

She can see through the thick walls of ice that surround her now—the thick, unforgiving white had evolved into a clear, glasslike state a few hours ago, and Emma can see the woman in the blue dress pacing constantly, only slowing when she passes Emma's cage. Emma's pretty sure Elsa—that's her name, right?—is the one that turned the ice into its current glasslike state.

She'd watched as Elsa tried to take down the cage when she'd realized how cold Emma was getting, but it didn't look like she'd managed to make any progress.

Her head feels heavy and she's curled up into a tight little ball against one of the walls, too cold to even shiver anymore. Her thoughts are sluggish and it's getting harder to keep her eyes open—it won't be that bad if she sleeps for a little bit, right?

Surely she'll feel better once she's taken a little nap.

"Emma!"

Her eyes flutter open again, and she looks around confusedly—she knows that voice… She's pretty sure she does. There's someone in front of her cage, kneeling on the ground and hand pressing to the cold ice. His features look all messed up through her bleary eyes and the thick ice but she knows him—those blue eyes…

"Killian?" Her voice is soft and shaky and she can barely even hear herself.

"Emma," his voice is louder and stronger, and it feels comforting to know he's right there with her. "Emma, love, you need to keep fighting—we're almost there. Anna and Elsa are working on getting you out. Just a little bit longer, love."

He sounds  _so_  worried and she doesn't like that—she can almost see the frown creasing his forehead—, she just wants him here with her, so she can hold him. So she can tell him that she's fine, so that he can envelop her in his arms and so she can feel  _safe_  and  _home_.

He's always so  _warm_ —she could use some of that.

"Take c—care o—o—of Henry f—for me," she manages to tell him. She knows he'll never deny her anything—he never does—and she needs to know that, because she knows she's going to die in here. And she needs to know that both her boys will be taken care of—her father will be okay if this ends badly—he has her mom and baby Graham—but Killian and Henry…

She needs to know they are both okay.

"I—I'm sorry," she stutters, "I really lo—"

"No," Killian exclaims, and he sounds pained and scared and she doesn't want the last thing she hears to be him yelling at her, pleading with her to hold on, to not leave him too—to stay with him.

Frantic. Desperate. Terrified.

She's mad at herself for forgetting that she's not the only one who's lost a lot of people—who's been abandoned. For not seeing that he's always been there for her, even when she gave him no reason to be there.

 _'I love you_.' She thinks, wishing that somehow he could hear her thoughts—her body's not cooperating anymore and she can't even feel the cold anymore as she slips down to the floor of her icy cage. Her eyes flutter shut of their own accord and she knows that her rescue is going to be too late—she's not even trembling anymore.

She knows she's slipping away—she can feel it happening, and it's the oddest, most terrifying thing she's ever felt. It's also the most comforting, because it's easy and slow and there's no pain there—she knows there won't be.

The last thing she hears before everything goes black is Killian's frantic voice, begging her to hang on, to stay with him—to never let go—and she wants to,  _so, so_  badly, but she's  _so_  tired. She just needs to close her eyes for a little bit.

Just for a little bit.

.

.

.

"Do something!" Killian cries desperately, digging his hook into the thick ice over and over again, to no avail—the ice is too thick, and he will never get through in time. His heart is pounding loudly in his ear, and each beat feels like a punch to the gut—his heart beats the same steady staccato…

It feels like Emma's name is imprinted upon the organ and each beat reminds him of her.

 _Emma_.

He feels as though he too is struggling to survive, as though his body is shutting down along with Emma's—he cannot imagine a life without her by his side anymore, and he refuses to accept it. He has never felt so useless in his life—but he will not give up.

He bites his lip as he listens to Anna argue—albeit very shakily—with Elsa, pleading with her to help them take down the ice wall. He clenches his fist desperately, because he knows that his temper will not aid them, nor convince Elsa to hear their plight.

Anna had already admitted that something in the ice that is holding his Swan captive is stronger than her magic, and that she has never before seen anything like it.

 _Emma_.

His nails dig into his skin as he pleads with Emma to hold on, to wake up—to not leave him as she had feared he would leave her.

_Emma._

He cannot lose her.

He will not survive that heartbreak.

 _Emma_.

"Get a move on," he bellows—his carefully built façade shatters at Elsa umpteenth refusal—turning to glare at the stately blonde, "I don't care for your petty arguments and pathetic plight!  _She's dying_!" He is beyond caring about showing his vulnerability.

All he cares for is getting Emma out of this icy cage.

"Please," he whispers, fully turning to Elsa, "Please. She is…" he chokes, "She is everything.  _Please_."

He barely listens to what David and Anna say to Elsa—his heart is pounding painfully in his chest and he cannot—

He cannot breathe.

Fear is gripping at his throat, and he feels as though  _he_  is the one who is frozen—he wants to cry and scream and rage and run, but he cannot bring himself to move.

He cannot go through this again.

Not again.

But then something in the ice changes—it starts to melt, little drops of ice cold water dripping onto his hand where it is still pressed tightly against the ice. He does not turn to see who is melting the ice—he does not care.

The ice is thinner, and he can almost punch his fist through it—and then there is an opening.

A small one, but it is large enough to see through it, and he cries out in pain as he sees Emma curled up against the far end of the cage, her eyes shut and her skin deathly pale. Her lips are tinged with blue, and he cannot help but punch through the still-melting ice in his desperation to get to her.

 _Emma_.

She hangs limply in his arms when he pulls her to him, but she's breathing and  _alive_  and he can  _breathe_  again.

He is still terrified—it is not the first time he has seen the devastating effects of cold on a human body—but he is also joyous and light, because she's  _here_.

He has her in his arms and he is  _never_ letting her out of his sight again.

Her skin is ice, and he needs to get her out of here and to a healer.

He lifts her up into his arms—he smiles lightly when, despite being unconscious, she snuggles into his warmth—and hurries out of the clearing, ignoring David and Anna and Elsa as he hurries towards the 'truck', as David had called it. It is somewhat difficult to see where he is walking, with Emma in his arms, but he manages and does not once trip over hidden tree roots or slip over an ice patch on the forest floor.

"Hook!"

He can hear Anna behind him, but he can't stop, he needs to help Emma, keep her safe—

" _Killian_! Wait! I can get you to the hospital far faster than this—wait!"

He stops reluctantly, turning to glare at Anna as she runs up to him.

"I care not for magic tricks," he hisses, "We need to get Emma warmed up right away or—"

"I know," Anna bites back, a green fire flashing in her eyes, "I know—let me take you to the hospital. I can take you there in less than a heartbeat, and you will be able to care for Emma an—" she cuts off, but his attention is once again diverted by his Swan, who stirs in his arms, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal that the usual vibrant forest green of her eyes is dulled and misty.

"K—Killian," she breathes in a whisper so soft, he can barely hear it.

"I've got you, love," he whispers in her ear as she tightens her near-frozen fingers in his shirt, "I've got you. I'm here."

He takes a moment to revel in Emma's slight awareness before he nods to Anna and extends his hook to her.

"Take me to this 'hospital'.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Granny's Diner—at that same moment**

"How's the little guy?" Ruby smiles at Mary-Margret and Henry as she brings them their lunch order. Baby Graham is happily suckling on his pacifier in his carrier, the picture of innocence—Henry rolls his eyes.

If only Ruby knew how loud Graham had screamed earlier when Mary-Margret didn't get him out of his crib immediately to feed him.

He barely listens to the conversation between his grandma and Ruby—he's far more interested in figuring out who the new girl in town is. He'd heard her say she's from the future, and that she's here to help everyone survive the new villain, but he's not sure he believes her.

She's from the future—he  _does_  believe that—but why would anyone come back, ruining their own lives in the process, to  _change_  the past? Even if she does manage to change the past—or the present… Whatever—she won't be able to go home.

He sighs and munches on a French fry absent-mindedly.

Everyone knows that, right?

So, why would you risk your entire existence for a group of people you've never even met? No matter how much he'd admire anyone, he doesn't think he'd ever feel that kind of devotion.

Not to total strangers…

It just doesn't make sense to him.

So… That would imply that she knows them, in the future—not just knows  _of_  them.

He's about to share his theory with Mary-Margret and Ruby when the door to the Diner suddenly crashes open, and a tall, beautiful, pale woman in a long white dress strides in. He swallows thickly when her pale blue eyes—so pale they're almost as white as the whites of her eyes—fall upon their booth, and a cruel smirk curls on her lips.

"Ah," she speaks softly, "Just who I was looking for."

Before he realizes what is happening—before he even gets the chance to be some kind of afraid or alarmed—she has raised both palms towards them, and he can see the cool, crackling white of magic growing within them, her head tilted to the side slightly as she adds, "I do apologize for this… But you would only get in my way."

And then the Diner is filled with bright white light, an icy cold wind and baby Graham's cries.


	4. Chapter Three—Blackbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!
> 
> Here's another chapter for you, and another tip of the veil lifted :D It's a mostly transitional/filler chapter, and after my exams are finished, I'll be quick to work on the next one.
> 
> Thank you to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing this for me and listening to my rants about OUAT, Captain Swan and life in general.
> 
> R&R, darlings! It feeds the musie-she's a greedy little bitch ;)
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!

**Chapter Three **—Blackbird****

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_Blackbird fly, blackbird fly  
Into the light of the dark black night_

_—Blackbird, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest—several years into the future**

"Where's Mama?"

Ruby pastes a smile onto her lips and kneels down before the precious six-year-old, gently playing with Leia's wild curls as she contemplates how to answer the girl's inquiry.

She can't tell Leia that her mother is holed up in her bedroom, refusing to eat and drink and come out to see anyone—Leia is a precocious, smart little girl, who is far more observant than anyone gives her credit for, and she is always worried when she sees Emma sad.

And unfortunately, Emma being sad and desolate is no rare occurrence these days. Ruby can hardly remember the last time she'd seen Emma truly smile—then again… None of them have had much occasion to feel joyous for a while.

She too still feels the sharp pain of losing her best friend and her grandmother as though it had happened only yesterday, despite the nearly seven years that have passed. She sighs heavily before offering Leia a small smile as she explains that Emma isn't feeling very well today, so Leia will have to play with Ruby for the day.

Leia frowns a little, her forehead wrinkling adorably as she thinks deeply before nodding and smiling radiantly. "Okay," she grins, "Can we go outside?"

Ruby smiles—yes, Leia really is her parents' daughter.

Leia has hated the castle walls from the moment she was old enough to realize that there was an entire world out there. Ruby remembers the first time she took Leia to the village—she'd almost needed a leash to make sure she would not lose Leia at least half a dozen times. She'd loved the market and the people and the food—she adored the docks and the ships.

Whenever Ruby would stay with Leia for a day—or a few days—she would take Leia out of the castle, into the village and to the docks.

Sometimes, Ruby wishes she would have known Killian better; wishes she would have more stories to tell Leia about her father… Unfortunately, only Emma truly knew Killian, and she is barely capable of speaking his name without reverting to a near catatonic state.

And while Leia is smart and astute for her age, she cannot truly understand why her mother is almost constantly sad—even though Leia  _does_  know that her father passed away and that her mother misses him very much, just like her grandfather misses her grandmother  _very_  much.

Ruby considers herself quite lucky—she may not have found her True Love, but at least she has not lost him either.

She has seen the devastating effects of losing one's True Love with both Emma and David, and she can only pray that she will never have to face that kind of pain—she's not sure any amount of time shared with her True Love would be worth the amount of pain and suffering she'd feel if she were to ever lose him.

"Go get your cloak and good boots," Ruby orders softly, once again pushing a stray dark curl from Leia's forehead, "And bring a ribbon so I may braid your hair before we leave."

She grins as Leia squeals excitedly before taking off towards her chambers, skipping the entire way.

She loves that Leia is so exuberant, so full of life—like her parents had been, before the Snow Queen had put an abrupt end to their happiness.

When Leia returns, hopping on one leg to put on her boot, her cloak hanging off her shoulder haphazardly and her curls flying about wildly, Ruby laughs, shaking her head as she moves to help the little girl get dressed properly.

Her fingers linger on the silver necklace that is now around Leia's neck, far too long for her—it nearly reaches her waist—a necklace that is hauntingly familiar. "Where'd you get this, sweetie?" She asks quietly, playing with the skull and cross curiously.

"Mama gives it to me," Leia says with a small smile, and Ruby doesn't bother correcting her small grammar mistake—Leia speaks almost flawlessly, unless she's really excited or emotional, which is when she sometimes messes up her sentences. It's adorable though, so no one bothers to correct her when she does it.

"It is Papa's," Leia announces proudly, "Mama says I should have it."

Ruby swallows thickly and smiles at Leia, tying up her unruly curls into a quick ponytail instead of the braid she'd intended earlier and getting to her feet—she doesn't want Leia to start asking too many questions about Killian…

She won't know how to answer them truthfully, and she doesn't want to disappoint the girl.

"Come, sweetheart," she smiles, "Let's go down to the market place before all the good things are gone—and then we can get sweet rolls and watch the ships."

She giggles at Leia's excited squeal and watches as the girl sprints down the hallways to the large front doors faster than a speeding bullet—she has no idea where that girl gets her energy, but she hopes she'll have burned most it off by noon.

Sometimes, she feels oddly like Leia is partly her own daughter as much as she is Emma's daughter, and every time she sees Emma and Leia together, she feels guilty for loving Leia the way she does, because Ruby  _knows_  how much Leia means to Emma, even if Emma isn't all that good at showing it anymore—and Leia adores her mother more than anything else in the world.

Though Henry might be running as a close second as Leia's favourite person in the world.

Ruby sighs sadly and once again wishes Snow and Killian would still be with them—wishes that she would have some kind of guidance in how to deal with Leia.

How to be careful in not replacing Emma as Leia's mother.

It's not going to be easy—but Ruby loves Emma and Leia and Henry and David and little Graham—so she's going to try.

Emma is doing the best she can for Leia—and it is enough.

Leia loves Emma.

It is as it should be.

Ruby nods to herself to assure herself she has made the right decision, before she chases after Leia, smiling—despite her somewhat conflicted feelings—at the prospect of spending the entire day with little Leia.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

She awakes to a strange beep. It resounds through the empty space in her head and echoes through her entire body. Something is wrong—that much she can tell. She isn't sure where she is, or how she got here in the first place—she remembers Killian and their night at Granny's and fighting with Regina and then Anna turning up and going to find Elsa and then….

Nothing.

She takes a deep breath again, desperately attempting to remember  _anything_ beyond kissing Killian goodbye before she and Anna left to find Elsa.

The mere thought of Killian proves to be all too distracting though.

She's not sure why he can evoke such powerful emotions within her; but it seems that, as soon as she recalls his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, all she can think about is how he is always able to anticipate what she needs before  _she_ knows she needs it—how he's always able to make her smile, even in the worst of circumstances.

The resounding and awfully irritating beep interrupts her thoughts once again, and she wants to frown. She would have frowned, if her body would cooperate. But her limbs are heavy, and she feels like something is pressing down on her chest, making breathing a lot harder.

What on earth is going on?

Slowly, she tries to open her eyes. It hurts—almost feeling as though her eyes have been glued shut before she tries to open them again—but she manages in the end. Her surroundings are unfamiliar and dark, lines blurring as she furiously blinks, trying to blink away the sleep in her eyes.

Slowly, her eyes adjust to the darkness around her. She can safely say she is  _not_  in her bedroom, nor in Killian's room at Granny's, as she'd briefly hoped she would be. She studies the room she's in and comes to the startling conclusion that she's in a hospital—the annoying beep that had woken her up is a heart monitor.

She fumbles around, feebly moving her hand back and forth over the sheets, looking for the buzzer to call a nurse. Her body aches all over, and she isn't sure how that happened. She didn't go drinking with her pirate, right? And besides, alcohol poisoning doesn't make you feel like you've been in an accident, does it? Finally, her fingers bump against the cold plastic of the buzzer, and after a bit of fumbling, she manages to curl her fingers around the device.

She pushes the button quickly, wishing desperately for a nurse or even Whale to just show up and tell her what the hell had happened.

Before she really gets the chance to contemplate the overall weirdness of the situation, the door to her room opens and a tall, fair-skinned woman in a nurse's outfit walks in, sporting a concerned expression.

Emma exhales in relief and opens her mouth to ask what is going on, but the woman speaks before she gets the chance.

"Oh, Sheriff," she sighs in relief, a friendly smile plastered on her face as she hurries to Emma's side, "Don't try to talk just yet. We had to intubate you, and your throat will still be a little raw from that. You need to drink some water first. You gave everyone quite the scare, Sheriff—your Captain refused to leave your side the entire time. That is until you father made him leave to shower and eat. I expect he'll be back soon."

Emma frowns slightly at the sudden influx of information, but allows the woman to lift the cup to her lips, letting the delicious cold liquid slide down her throat. She drinks more eagerly, chokes slightly and winces when a bolt of pain shoots through her body.

Her ribs ache after coughing and she wants to know what is going on.

"Wh—what happened?" She manages to ask, though it  _does_  hurt  _a lot_ , like the nurse had warned her. The woman smiles uneasily and shakes her head. "Try to rest some more, Sheriff, I'll call your family to let them know you finally woke up." With that terribly confusing statement, the nurse leaves the room, leaving Emma to think about the things she has learned up until now.

To be honest, it isn't a lot.

She is now positive she doesn't just have a killer hangover after going out with Killian—things just aren't adding up. She'd been intubated, her entire body feels like it's been steamrolled and the way the nurse had spoken, it sounds like she had been out for more than just a few hours.

Going over the list of clues she had gotten in her head, she tries to remember what had happened before she blacked out. She'd been talking—or casually trying to pump more information—with Anna when they'd stumbled upon an ice trail leading into the woods… Anna had convinced her to text either Killian or her dad where they were going… And then… Nothing.

She can't remember…

She lets out a frustrated sigh. Why can't she remember? What the hell happened? How long has she been out? Why won't the nurse tell her anything?

With those questions burning in her mind, she falls into a light, restless sleep once again.

.

.

.

Her life was no longer of value. The moment she had seen Killian walk into her hospital room, his smile wide and relieved as he saw her, but his eyes slightly bloodshot and red-rimmed, she had known. She had simply known that she did not want to know what had happened.

She had felt tears burn in her eyes before Killian had even spoken the words—words that made her feel sick with guilt, despite Killian's constant assurances that what happened had not in any way been her fault—she'd been unconscious for four days.

Four whole days.

"I'm so sorry," Killian had whispered, tears gathering in his eyes, "I am so sorry, love—there was nothing we could do. Regina saved those she could but…" He trails off, his voice breaking slightly, and Emma had been reminded that he had lost one of the few friends he had in Storybrooke.

"Unfortunately," Killian had continued, "Regina was too late to aid Miss Lucas. She passed before Regina managed to get inside the Diner." Emma felt as though the ground had been ripped from underneath her, and the world had stopped spinning.

At first, she hadn't been capable of feeling anything—it was almost as though she was simply empty.

Ruby couldn't be gone.

She was far too young, too vibrant, too  _full of life_  to be gone.

She. Can't. Be. Dead.

But as the minutes ticked by—after she had asked Killian to go, to go check on her mother and father, to tell them she is awake—memories had started trickling into her mind.

Painful, heart wrenching, terrifying memories—memories of how she and Anna found Elsa, of Elsa being startled and then erecting an icy cage around her, trapping her inside for hours… Of intense cold, of freezing to death and being  _so scared_  of dying, because she hadn't even really  _lived_  yet, of hope surging when Killian found her—memories of those hopes shattering when the ice surrounding her didn't, of realizing she  _loves_  him, realizing that she'll never get to tell him how  _loved_  he is…

And then the memory of giving into the darkness because she was too weak to hold on any longer.

And now… Now she is simply numb.

Nothing matters anymore—and how can it anyway?

Ruby is  _dead_  because of her—she's the Savior, and she had been lying in a hospital, completely  _useless_ while an evil Snow Queen attacked  _her_  town, tried to kill  _her_  mother and baby brother.

Obviously, this is how the future Anna is from started—Ruby is simply the first casualty in a war Anna says will claim many of her friends and family. Some Savior she is—she's messing up so badly, someone had to come back from the future to make sure it didn't happen…

And even that doesn't seem to be working.

"Mom?"

She looks up in confusion, frowning as she sees Henry lingering in the doorway of her room, his eyes as red-rimmed and bloodshot as Killian's had been—as her own undoubtedly are, by now—and she chokes out a sob she didn't even know she was holding back as Henry rushes in to hug her.

She breathes him in, wrapping him tightly in her arms—she almost lost him.

He almost lost her.

She can't let that happen—she's got to fight; she has to start fighting to  _make_  her own future instead of blindly following Anna.

Her resolve strengthens when Henry whispers, "I was so scared, mom."

She's done letting the villains come at them.

This time, she's going to take the fucking fight to them.

.

.

.

**The Charming loft, Storybrooke, Maine—at that same moment**

Killian offers Snow what he hopes is a comforting smile as he rocks the little princeling in his arms—he is all too well aware of the kind of agony she is facing right now, and he would never have wished it upon anyone.

He is  _very_  worried for his Swan, but he knows she needs time and space—she needs to process and she needs to do it alone.

He does not, however, have any intention of allowing her to go through the loss of Ruby Lucas on her own—with that in mind, knowing she would oppose his own presence at that moment, he had sent the lad over, knowing that Emma needed to see Henry as much as the lad needed to see her.

And perhaps Emma had been right—it does seem like the Royal couple needs his help more than she does at this time. After all, from what he understood, Ruby had been a close friend to both David and Snow, and watching her friend die in her stead had shocked the young Queen in such a manner that she had yet to say a word other than Ruby's name—she cannot even bring herself to hold the little princeling for very long because she is still shaking so hard.

He has not seen Anna since the news of Ruby's passing had reached them, and he finds himself slightly worried for the girl—he had seen the flash of crippling grief in her eyes before she had schooled her features into a cool mask of indifference that was so startlingly similar to Emma's, it confirmed most of his suspicions.

He sighs quietly and smiles tightly when David sits next to him on the steps leading to Emma's bedroom, knowing there is nothing he can say that will ease David and Snow's pain. Instead, he offers his mate little Graham back, certain that holding his son will help ground David a little.

"Thanks," David says gruffly, cradling his youngest in his arms, "For everything. I know you'd rather be with Emma, but I appreciate you being here."

Killian is somewhat floored by David's words—he supposes it should not surprise him, these bloody Charmings always manage to catch him off guard—but nods and squeezes David's shoulder before he gets to his feet. "I'm sorry to leave now, mate," he explains when David looks confused, "but I wish to find our time-traveling friend… I fear she might be quite upset at this turn of events too. I have not seen her in two days."

The Prince nods in understanding and offers him a sad smile. "When you go see Emma later," the Prince says quite matter-of-factly, "tell her we love her, and that we will be there tomorrow to see her."

He simply nods and offers both Royals one more smile before he sweeps out the door, determined to find his little time-traveling friend (he dares not think of her in a different fashion just yet, because he is not yet certain, he is frightened of  _hoping_  his suspicions might be correct).

.

.

.

**Storybrooke Beach, Storybrooke, Maine—Present time**

"How long have you known?"

The way she poses the question—quietly, resignedly—unnerves him for a short moment before he moves to sit against the wall next to her, silently offering her his flask of rum. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware how wrong giving her alcohol should feel to him, but he knows she needs it.

He's impressed when she downs the liquid without so much as flinching.

He leans his head back against the wall and sighs, accepting the flask from her when she holds it out to him. "I think I have known all along," he finally replies, turning to look at her. He remembers the moment it had to have hit him.

It was when she had attempted to convince David to just go save Emma from Elsa's icy temper, and she had looked so like his Swan, it had hit him—and it had been in that moment that he realized how  _alike_  they were. How  _similar_  their facial structure was, how they even moved and laughed in the same way.

He's not lying to Anna when he tells her he thinks he's known all along—he has, subconsciously—known all along that there was something about Anna that was too familiar, too  _real_. But it hadn't been until that moment that he had actually  _realized_  it.

Anna snorts a little, wiping at her tears quietly as she stares blankly at the wall ahead of them. "She wasn't supposed to die," she whispers, clutching at the necklace around her neck in a move that reminds him all too much of Emma, "She was alive when I was born... She raised me when mom couldn't—she raised Graham when David couldn't. She's supposed to be alive, Killian— _papa_."

Her voice breaks, and he winces at the pure  _longing_  in her voice.

It's a longing he knows, a longing he's felt too, and a longing he once swore he would never make his children endure.

It's a pledge he feels truly shamed to have failed at.

He doesn't speak—he doesn't think there is anything he can say that will aid her with her plight—and simply draws her into his arms, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. "I've got you, lass," he whispers as he rocks her in his arms, "I've got you. It's alright."

It's not.

It is not even remotely alright—he had not known the wolf girl very well; had not often spoken to her, though he  _did_  consider her a friend—but she had been young and beautiful and her life had barely even begun before the Snow Queen had cruelly ended it.

And, knowing that the woman had been responsible for helping Anna—his  _daughter_ —grow into the beautiful, brave woman that is here with him right now, makes it hurt more. Makes him feel horrible for not having taken the time to get to know her, for not having had the opportunity to thank her for saving Snow's life—for saving Emma's.

"One time," Anna whispers, and she speaks so quietly Killian is not certain she means for him to hear her, "when I was six, she took me to this little hill overlooking the docks, to watch the ships…" She trails off, another tear slipping down her cheek, "And she fell asleep. I snuck away, to the actual docks, because I wanted to have an adventure—I wanted to sail away and see the whole world." She snorts a little, and he can tell she feels a little silly for her mischievousness as a child.

"I almost snuck onto a naval ship when she found me—chewed me out for running off unchaperoned… She didn't take me out to see the ships for months after that—I believe people in this world call it being grounded."

He smiles a little, hugging her to his side as he presses a kiss to her hair, but remains quiet otherwise, allowing her to reminisce about the woman who had helped his Swan raise his daughter when he was obviously not there to do it.

He does not linger on that—he knows what it means, and he does not wish to think too much about it.

He's well aware of how short life can be, and though the idea of his happiness being ended so soon after he has finally found it is more than a little disheartening, he refuses to let it guide his actions—he understands now why Anna had refused to tell them who lost their lives in the battle with the Snow Queen.

It  _can_  be quite dismaying.

"Pa—Killian?" Anna's voice is soft and he nearly misses it—but then she's looking up at him and all he can see is  _blue, blue_  eyes so much like his own and his brother's.

"Aye, love?"

"My name," she hesitates, "My name isn't Anna. It's Leia."


	5. Chapter Four—Love Me Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!
> 
> Another chapter between my huge caseload at school... Not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. This is largely unbeta'd but will be replaced with the beta'd version in a few days ;)
> 
> I just wanted to get the chapter up before the next episode :D
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!

**Chapter Four **—Love Me Do****

_Love, love me do  
_ _You know I love you_

_I'll always be true_ _  
So please, love me do_

_Oh, love me do_

_Someone to love_  
Someone new  
Someone to love

_Someone like you_

_—Love Me Do, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest, 15 years into the future**

Henry tugs on his sleeves nervously, glancing at himself in the mirror, finding that he's slightly stunned to have found himself here—he knows that he's lucky to have found the kind of love and family that he has, and he's  _very_  grateful to have it. He's been nervous about this day for a long time, and though he's still a little sad about  _settling_  rather than waiting for True Love, he  _is_  happy.

He's known this day was coming since his twenty-fifth birthday, when David officially passed the crown to him and made him King of both kingdoms.

He's had a lot of time to come to terms with his lot, and he does not regret it either—he may not be actually  _in_  love with his soon-to-be wife, but he  _does_  love and care for her a great deal, and he cannot wait to marry her.

"So," Graham whines from his perch on the window seat, "I understand why you would be forced to dress in this monkey suit today," he wrinkles his nose disgustedly and tugs on his cravat anxiously, "but honestly, there is no reason why we should  _all_  suffer through it."

Henry chuckles and shakes his head at his fifteen-year-old cousin—who happens to look just like Snow did… He has her eyes and hair color, and even the chin he shares with Emma and Henry both.

"You wanted to stand up there with me," he grins as he turns back to the mirror to adjust his own cravat one more time, and to make sure he looks good for his betrothed—she is not a noblewoman, as many people had expected, but a simple seamstress Henry had met when he was traveling with the navy, before he had been crowned.

He had been taken with her—and, at the time, had thought it to be True Love—and had asked her to accompany him as he returned back to the capitol. He had offered her a position as a royal seamstress for Leia—God knows they needed good seamstresses; Leia ripped and tore through her dresses at an alarming rate at that age—and had hoped to spend more time with her once she would be living in the castle.

She had chosen to return with him, and he had barely waited two months before he officially sought out his grandfather's and his mother's permission to officially court Rosanna. In a testament to how much finding and losing their True Love had changed them, Emma and David had granted him permission to do as he pleased, as long as it made him truly happy.

And courting Rosanna had, for some time.

Alas, after a few years, though he was still very fond of her and loved her, he simply fell out of love with her.

By then though, he had already promised her his hand in marriage, and he knew she was still very much in love with him—and more than anything, he refused to break Rosanna's heart the way he knew his father once broke his mother's heart.

And then, not two weeks ago, in the midst of searching for Leia and planning his wedding, Rosanna had told him he is to be a father. That only sealed the deal for him—sure, he might not love Rosanna in the all-consuming way that his mother loved Killian or that his grandfather loved Snow, but it's enough for him.

The kind of love her feels for Rosanna is slow and steady and easy and comforting and it's  _good_.

And, more than anything, Henry refuses to allow his child to grow up as a bastard child.

He doesn't  _need_  the kind of love his mother and grandfather once had—he's content with the love and life that he has now.

After all, True Love is very rare, even in the Enchanted Forest.

"Henry!"

He jumps and barely gets the chance to turn around before Leia's arms are suddenly wrapped around him in a tight hug. He laughs a little—he  _had_  missed his little sister a lot while she was missing (though everyone knew that she was off having the time of her life, even if none of them knew where the hell she was) and he is beyond happy that Ruby had found her before he got married.

He'd never dreaded his wedding as much as he did when he believed his baby sister wouldn't be there to see it.

"Hey squirt," he grins, playfully struggling with her until he can turn and hug her back just as tightly.

"Ugh," Leia exclaims, slapping his arm playfully, "Do not call me that!"

Henry chuckles and Graham snorts before he announces he's going to check on Emma and David, and Leia just pouts at the pair of them—she is too adorable, and he loves having his little sister around again. It takes him a longer moment to realize that she too is dressed for her part in the ceremony, and it has to be the first time that he realizes that his little sister is a very, very  _beautiful_  girl when she chooses to act and dress like one.

She's changed in the months that she had been away, though not necessarily in a bad way—Henry shakes his head wryly; he just wants her to still be his adorable baby sister, not the woman she is slowly growing up to be.

Her waist-length dark hair, no longer as wildly curled as it had been when she was younger, frames her face, contrasting sharply with the brilliant blue of her eyes—bluer than the most beautiful sapphire gems in the crown's possession.

She moves differently as well—he's noticed over the past couple of days—straighter, prouder, more confident. It's almost as though, in the three months she'd been gone, she's learned to love  _who_  she is—and he's grateful to whoever showed her that being royalty as well as being the daughter of a more than notorious pirate is not something she should be ashamed of.

"You look beautiful, Lee," he offers, tugging her to his side to press a kiss to her head.

Whereas she would usually struggle and try to get away from him, she now hugs him back, readily accepting the comfort and affection he's been trying to provide for her entire life.

It must be one of the first times she willingly lets him hug her.

"Are you nervous?" She asks eagerly when she pulls back, smoothing his shirt a little as she does.

Henry sighs a little and shakes his head—it's true; he is not  _nervous_.

He is eager, and excited, but he is not nervous.

Leia just rolls her eyes and snorts, shaking her head a little in what he thinks is disbelief. "I don't get you," she grins, "I'd be sick with nerves before my wedding, I'm sure of it."

Henry makes a face at the thought of his baby sister marrying  _anyone_ , because no one will ever be good enough for her. "God, don't put me through that for another few years,  _please_ ," he begs, scowling at Leia when she bursts into laughter.

"Don't worry, big brother," she giggles, patting his arm, "I won't come near any boys yet—they have cooties, remember?"

Henry just shakes his head and pushes the thought of his sister with anyone out of his head rather forcefully and refocuses his attention on his own wedding, wondering what his bride will be wearing, if she will be nervous, and how long they will be able to hide her pregnancy before it becomes too prominent to conceal.

He and Leia both look up when Emma knocks quietly before entering the room—he immediately senses the tension between his mother and his sister and he hates that it is still there; but he knows from where it stems, and though he wishes desperately that his mother would be able to let go of her fears and those infernal walls, even if only for Leia's sake, he knows that her ability to trust and love unconditionally died with Killian.

And, more than anything, he feels horrible that Leia  _knows_  that her mother doesn't trust and love her as much as she should.

Ironically, the only time since they'd come back to the Enchanted Forest Henry had seen their mom show true, real emotion had been when Leia had run away without so much as a goodbye-note. She had been terrified and frantic, and it hadn't been until she'd located Leia on a map and saw her through a mirror that their mom had been able to calm down.

And instead of closing Leia in her arms the moment she got back to the castle, his mother had done nothing but give Leia the cold shoulder.

Henry sighs—he wishes he could fix them, fix the broken pieces of his mother's heart, but he can't, and now he's forced to watch them both suffer.

"You look really handsome, Henry," Emma smiles, though the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes—it never does anymore—before she looks at Leia and offers, "And you're beautiful, sweetheart." She reaches out to brush an errand lock of hair from Leia's shoulder, "You both look just like your fathers—I know they'd be proud of you. Both of you."

Henry watches as his little sister tears up and rushes into their mother's arms, mumbling incoherently about adventures, pirates and taking Emma with her next time, and he can't stop a brilliant smile from forming on his lips.

Maybe it's not too late to fix their family yet.

.

.

.

**Charming Loft, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

Emma watches as Killian smiles radiantly at something Anna says, and tries desperately to ignore how her heart clenches painfully—she has to trust him, she knows that he  _loves_  her, even though it's too soon and too scary. She knows that Killian would never betray her like this—but she can't stop staring at them, wondering when  _this_  happened.

Before, Anna could barely stand to be in the same room as Killian, much less talk to him, and now it's almost like she's replacing David as Killian's best friend—and she knows her dad and Killian are friends, even though the both of them swear that they only tolerate each other for her sake.

She knows she's not the only one to have noticed—David's been glaring at Killian all day too—and she's not sure if that should make her feel better or worse.

"Is that your husband?"

She jumps a little as Elsa—so  _weird,_ because she  _just_  saw the woman in a Disney movie and now she's  _here_ —sits next to her, smiling awkwardly. "Oh—" she stutters, looking back at Killian, "No, he's… I mean, we're not—"

Elsa cuts her off by resting her hand on Emma's arm and smiles, "I didn't mean to assume—it is just… He was  _very_  desperate to save you when I… And your son seemed to take after the both of you…" she trails off and looks down sheepishly, "I do not think I apologized for trapping you in that ice—I am truly sorry."

Emma offers Elsa a tight smile—she knows Elsa wasn't to blame; they figured the Snow Queen kept the cage frozen solid even when Elsa tried to melt it—but doesn't say anything, her gaze once again drawn to where Killian, Anna and now David are talking.

"Okay," she speaks up, so everyone can hear her, "Anna—you said there was more you could tell us now. Can you get to it now?"

She knows it's rude and petty, but she's out of patience and just wants to start looking for this damn Snow Queen and get it over with so she can focus on other things than an evil villain trying to destroy their lives.

Anna exchanges a look with Killian—he's  _her_  pirate, damn it, the little tramp needs to find a man of her own—before she sighs and nods, moving to sit on the small sofa across from Emma and Elsa.

"You two need to learn how to control your magic," Anna says bluntly, "Or you're going to get everyone killed because of your own insecurities." She winces at her own words at the same moment both Emma and Elsa do, and her expression visibly softens as she continues, "I'm not trying to sound insensitive—I'm trying to make sure that the Snow Queen cannot catch us by surprise again. She was never supposed to have gotten to you at the Granny's…"

Emma frowns a little at the flash of pain she sees in Anna's eyes before she seemingly pulls up her walls again. "I don't think Regina is willing to spend any more time with me than she absolutely  _has_  to," Emma finally says after a short silence, "And I don't really fancy asking Gold for help either." She sees Killian tense up at the mere mention of Gold and sighs, wishing he'd be closer so she could hold his hand.

"You don't need Gold or Regina," Anna sighs, "I have a far easier and better way to teach you how to use and control your magic."

"Really?" Elsa leans forward eagerly, "Why? I mean, from what I understood, this Regina and Mr. Gold are very well-versed in magical arts—why would your knowledge be of more use to us than theirs?"

Emma raises an eyebrow at Anna, quite interested to learn the answer to that question as well.

She bites her lip with a small frown, trying to think of a good reason to bail on this—she doesn't  _want_ to have to spend more time with Anna, not if she can help it. She still feels like Anna is partly to blame for Mary-Margret, Graham, Henry and Ruby having been ambushed at the Diner and she  _can't_  bring herself to get over that.

"Our magic's are…  _similar_ ," Anna says after a short silence, "We were all born with our powers—none of us had to resort to the Dark Arts to gain our magic. Emma's is born from True Love, Elsa's runs in the family and grows stronger with age."

Emma shakes her head, rubbing her hand over her forehead tiredly. "I still don't see why that would make you more capable of teaching us how to control our magic."

Anna looks at her intently, something Emma can't identify flashing in her eyes before she says, "My magic was born from True Love as well."

Before anyone else can say or do anything, Killian gasps loudly, his eyes wide and disbelieving and  _fixed_  on Anna in a way that makes both Emma and Anna squirm uncomfortably. "Killian?" Emma says slowly, drawing his attention away from Anna, "Are you okay?"

He's a little pale and Emma doesn't like the way he's swaying—damn it, this is not the time for him to get sick—, jumping to her feet and grabbing his arm to steady him before he falls over.

"Okay," she turns to Anna, ready to dismiss the whole idea before she remembers the promise she made to herself in the hospital—she's going to do whatever it takes to take the Snow Queen and King George down; if that means taking magic lessons from a girl who may or may not be from the future and who may or may not be hitting on  _her_  pirate, then so be it.

"I'll meet you and Elsa by the docks in an hour or so," Emma finally decides, nodding to affirm her decision and smiling at her parents, "We'll just be in my room for a bit."

David looks like he's going to burst an artery—Emma has to force herself not to laugh because it's just hilarious that he thinks he can tell her she can't take a boy up to her room, like she's fifteen, not thirty—and clearly wants to protest, but before he can, her Mom steps in and nods, answering, "Of course, honey. We'll just be down here with Graham if you need anything."

Emma smiles tightly at them before pulling her pirate—who's still in some kind of shock, it seems—up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her and shoving him down on the bed.

Her heart clenches when he still doesn't say anything, and she sighs before moving to stand between his legs, her fingers playing with his ridiculously soft hair. "You know," she drawls playfully, hoping to drag her pirate out of his shell that way, "this is  _not_  what I imagined having you in my room for the first time would be like."

His head snaps up— _of course_ a thinly veiled innuendo would get his attention—and he grins toothily, his hand and hook moving up to rest on her hips.

"Well, by all means, love," he practically growls—damn the things his voice do to her—, "feel free to show me what you had in mind." !She doesn't resist when he pulls her into a hungry kiss because  _damn it_ , he's hot and it's been  _days_  since she's last been anywhere near him without at least half the town there too—and maybe she's feeling just a tiny little bit possessive over him too, after seeing him talking animatedly to Anna for  _hours_.

His injured arm slides around her waist and suddenly she's in his lap, his hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place as he kisses the hell out of her—she tries to pour everything she can't say to him in the kiss, her fingers desperately tugging on his hair because she  _needs_  him, and he needs to be  _closer_.

She has no sense of time anymore, she barely even registers anything but Killian's lips on hers and his hand touching her everywhere at once—until she realizes they've shifted and she's now lying on her bed with her pirate cradled between her thighs, her chest heaving as she attempts to catch her breath, his lips hovering above hers.

It takes her a few moments to realize his shirt has mysteriously disappeared and hers is fully unbuttoned, Killian's fingers splayed out on her stomach.

When did that happen?

"I like the way your mind works, Swan," Killian chuckles against her lips, before wiggling down her body a little to rest his head on her chest.

Emma smiles happily, playing with his hair idly as she stares up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through her mind at dizzying speeds. "Are you okay?" She asks after a short silence, softly tugging on his hair to get him to look up at her.

He props his head up on his hand and smiles up at her—her heart does _not_  skip a beat—, his eyes sparkling prettily. "I'm grand, love. Why would I not be?"

She shrugs, playing with the floppy little piece of hair that keeps falling onto his forehead. "You seemed pretty out of it earlier," she says casually, "and you've been a little… Distant. I mean, you spent the entire day with Anna yesterday and you were talking to her constantly earlier."

He chuckles a little and nods, "Aye, love. Your parents were with you yesterday, and Anna did not have anyone else in this town—I felt responsible."

Emma frowns a little, not liking how much she  _hates_  the idea of him being close to any other woman—but she is not at all jealous. "Why?" She blurts, wincing a little at the incredulous look he gives her. "I mean," she backtracks, "I get that she doesn't have a lot of people here, but why do  _you_  have to be the one to—"

Killian pulls away from her abruptly and glares at her—damn it, he's not supposed to be angry with her. "Because she came back in time to save  _our_  lives, Swan," he hisses angrily, "the least I can do in return for saving my sorry arse is make her feel a little at home."

Emma stares at him, unsure of what to say, because  _he's_   _right_  and she hates that, because it means she's being stupid and unreasonable and she does  _not_  want to admit that.

"Killian," she pleads when he jumps from her bed and pulls his shirt back on, getting to her feet as well, reaching for his arm, "Killian, come on, I wasn't—"

"No!" He shouts, drawing his arm away from her—she jumps back, startled by his anger, unsure what to say or do. "No," he repeats, softer now, "It pains me how little faith you have in my affections—had I wanted to leave you for another," his eyes harden, "I would never have come to find you in New York. I hoped I had proven my loyalty to you—"

He falls silent for a moment and the  _hurt_  and pleading in his eyes nearly  _break_  her. "There isn't anything I can do to make you have faith in me—in my feelings for you—is there?" He finally whispers, his eyes dark and pained.

She just stares at him, and she's  _trying_ , but the words won't come and she  _wants_  to tell him she does trust him, that she doesn't think he'd just leave her, but her body refuses to cooperate and she  _can't_ —

How did this go south so fast?

When she remains silent, he looks down with a sad little smile that  _shatters_  her heart, whispering, "Aye, that is what I feared… You know where to find me when you change your mind." And just like that, before she even realizes it, he is out of the room, leaving her feeling oddly like she's just been dumped.

.

.

.

**The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

"Take a deep breath," Anna orders gently, "close your eyes and  _feel_  the magic in your surroundings. It's everywhere, if you just look for it."

Emma snorts, but complies—she might be pissed off and stubborn, but she's serious about defeating the Snow Queen—closing her eyes and pressing her fingers into the earth, willing herself to feel  _anything_. She can't, though, and it freaks her the hell out, because Elsa seems to pick it up easily, and she  _needs_ to be able to do this.

She  _needs_  to do this so she can save Killian and her parents and Henry—so they won't need Anna.

"Emma."

Her head snaps up when Anna calls her name, her eyes widening when she sees strings of bright white light wrapping around both Elsa's and Anna's fingers and up their arms—Elsa's giggling as she makes random snowflakes appear and disappear, and Anna is smiling radiantly; happily.

"Oh, wow," Emma deadpans—she's being horrible and she knows it but she can't stop herself—, "Sparkly lights. Great.  _That_ 's supposed to help us defeat the Snow Queen?"

Elsa's magic immediately falters and disappears, and Emma feels kind of bad about ruining the young woman's obvious joy, but she can't help it—misery loves company, she supposes.

"No," Anna says dryly, raising an eyebrow at Emma, "It's not. It's supposed to help you get in touch with your magic, which you would know if you stopped behaving like a petulant child and  _listened_  to me—you both need to  _feel_  that magic isn't inherently evil.  _Having_  magic doesn't make you evil. People  _use_  it do evil. There's a difference and if you want to survive, you need to learn that."

Emma stares at Anna, mouth hanging open as she struggles to find an appropriate comeback to that—unfortunately, she doesn't think that 'look who's talking' is going to cut it—whilst Elsa fidgets uncomfortably.

"Oh, dear," A fourth, female voice interrupts—they all jump to their feet, whirling around to face the tall blonde that has seemingly appeared out of nowhere—, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Emma glares at the new arrival—who can only be the elusive Snow Queen Anna had spoken off, the woman that killed Ruby, that tried to kill her  _mother_  and her  _baby brother_ —her rage bubbling to the surface; her hands are glowing with hot, bright white light. "What the hell do you want?" She spits, trembling with anger, only held back by Elsa and Anna's hands on her arms.

"Oh, it's quite simple, dear," the Snow Queen smiles pleasantly, "I want something you and your family have but never deserved—you are simply in my way, so I have to dispose of you."

Anna steps forward boldly, and Emma stares at her—is she insane? Really?—and spits, "It's you who isn't  _worthy_. Ou—their family has  _fought_  and  _earned_  their throne and their people  _love_  them. Nothing you can do will  _ever_  change that."

The Snow Queen narrows her eyes at Anna, and Emma can tell she struck a nerve.

There's blue ice swirling on the Snow Queen's fingertips and a chill that definitely wasn't there before in the air, and Emma instinctively wraps her magic around herself like a thick, warm, protective blanket—and suddenly it's like the Snow Queen's magic can't touch her anymore.

"I must say," the Snow Queen sneers, disdain dripping from each word she speaks, "I had expected more from the prophesized  _Savior_  and her companions. You truly are a pathetic ragtag little group of misfits, aren't you?"

Anna and Elsa don't seem at all affected by her words, but Emma can feel the tiny little voice in her head—the one that is  _always_  there, insisting she is not worth loving, that everyone will tire of her—grow stronger as the Snow Queen keeps speaking, and she can feel her magic faltering.

No, no, no.

She can't listen to the woman—she knows better now, she knows that she belongs  _here_ , in Storybrooke, with her family and Killian and all the others. She shakes her head, ignoring her own trepidation, and focuses all her attention on closing the holes in her magical bubble, shutting out the Queen's voice as she does.

"We do not believe in any of your lies," Elsa exclaims, shattering Emma's fragile self-control and snapping her protective bubble.

"Shit!" Emma cries, drawing everyone's attention back to her—the Snow Queen's eyes gleam darkly and a cruel smile twists her thin lips as the magic in her hands grows larger and stronger.

"It's such a shame," the Queen cackles madly, "You and I would have been magnificent together—if only you did not stand in my way." Emma's paralyzed, staring as the Snow Queen smirks evilly and releases the icy Curse she had been building in her palms.

"Emma!"

Several things happens at once.

It's like time slows, and all Emma can do is stare, horrified, protected by Anna's strong and unwavering magic, as Anna takes a small step back, her hands still raised—glowing with the magic for the shield she'd erected around Emma—when the icy blue beam bounces off her shield and rebounds, hitting her straight in the heart.

Emma and Elsa stare at her in horror—Emma can't quite believe Anna's still standing—as Anna presses her hand to her chest where the icy beam hit her, her face hidden by her hair.

"I got to give it to you," Anna's voice startles them all—especially the Snow Queen, who's staring at Anna open mouthed—, "that one hurt." Emma jumps, her heart squeezing with something that feels oddly like pride and fear at the same time, when Anna's eyes flash greener and greener until they are completely  _green_.

"Bet I can make this hit hurt worse," she hisses—and Emma doesn't know if she's just so good at telling when people are lying or if Anna just really sucks at it, but Emma can tell that whatever the Snow Queen hit her with is affecting her  _badly_  and she's bluffing.

"Yes,  _we_  can" she steps closer to Anna, instinctively reaching for her hand, letting her own magic pool in her palm, mixing with Anna's—it's about time she starts behaving like an adult and not an overly hormonal teenager—the feel of their shared magic rushing through her veins intoxicating and she almost loses her focus.

Almost.

"Stay away from us," Emma orders calmly—sounding far calmer than she really feels—as she allows their magic to spark between her fingers, "Or we will  _destroy_  you."

Emma can see the Snow Queen falter, her eyes showing just enough fear to convince Emma that she knows they mean business, before she nods and shakes her head. "Of course. If that is how you wish to play this."

And then in a flurry of ice and snow, she is gone.

The moment the Snow Queen disappears, Anna's legs seem to give out, and her hand slips out of Emma's as she falls. Emma rushes forward to catch Anna, cradling the girl's head in her lap as she stares up at her, her eyes finally having returned to their usual bright blue.

"It hurts," Anna whimpers, her hand rising weakly to touch her chest where the ice had hit her. "You need to control my magic before I lose it," she gasps in short, fast breaths, her eyes wide and fearful as her fingers shiver and clench in her own short, "Y—you do—don't u—understand. It's d—dangerous when I l—lose c—control."

Emma winces at the  _fear_  in Anna's eyes and voice and chokes, "You're going to be fine." She nods to assure herself as well as Anna and Elsa, who's just kneeled down beside them. Emma tries to keep her voice steady and confident—she can't  _lose_  it, Anna just took a Curse for her, she needs to stay strong and deal with everything else later, "We'll find something to help you."

Anna chokes on a laugh, jerking her head to each side shakily. "N—n—no. You won't. K—keep m—m—me away from Henry when I s—start sc—screaming."

"Anna," Elsa whispers, stroking Anna's hair from her forehead tenderly, "I'm certain we can find something."

"N—no," Anna shivers, "Not in time." Emma's heart breaks for her when the girl tries to give them a brave little smile as she whispers, "I—it's okay, Em—m—ma. J—just p—p—promise."

Emma clenches her fists at her side, willing herself not to cry as she offers Anna the most comforting, reassuring smile she can manage.

"I promise," she whispers, cursing silently when a tear slips down her cheek anyway, "I promise."


	6. Chapter Five--In My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!
> 
> My midterms are all over, I passed them all, so I shall live to write another day :D I just wanted to get this little chapter up before we all die from feels overload in the next episode.
> 
> I want to thank DancingDoula and JustSmileBFF for reading and beta'ing this chapter and letting me whine about plotlines and timetravelling :D
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!
> 
> PPS In the last chapter, it was mentioned in Leia's flashbacks that Henry was getting married and had a child on the way-the baby will be mentioned briefly as 'little Bae' here. Just a head's up to avoid confusion :D

**Chapter Five **—In My Life****

_There are places I remember_  
All my life, though some have changed  
Some forever not for better  
Some have gone and some remain

_All these places had their moments  
With lovers and friends_

_I still can recall_

_Some are dead and some are living  
In my life I've loved them all_

_But of all these friends and lovers_  
There is no one compares with you  
And these memories lose their meaning  
When I think of love as something new

 _Though I know I'll never lose affection_  
For people and things that went before  
I know I'll often stop and think about them  
In my life I love you more

_—In My Life, The Beatles_

**Charming's Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—19 years into the future**

It is all-consuming, mind-boggling, agonizing pain.

Leia had never known that her entire body could  _hurt_  from emotional pain, as though she is being torn apart from the inside out. Too many feelings battle for dominance within her mind, and she can barely see straight—now that she is experiencing the soul crushing, crippling ache, she wishes she had not been so impatient with her mother and grandfather at times.

She wishes she would have been better, more understanding—she doesn't understand how they survived two decades of this pain, how they had enough control to continue living with the crippling ache constantly lodged in their chests.

She understands the pain now—but she cannot help but wish that she did not.

She desires nothing more than to be ignorant to this kind of pain—she wishes for nothing more than the reason for her pain to be erased. But would not all who have been put in her situation? She cannot imagine any man or woman coming to terms with watching the only parents they have ever had die violently, at the hand of those they had trusted.

She does not know  _how_  to continue now—she does not know how to proceed with her life without her mother there to hold her when she is sad, to comfort her when a boy breaks her heart, to love her in that unconditional way that only a mother can love her child.

She cannot grasp that she will never be able to see her mother again—that she will never be able to crawl in her mother's bed with her again, when she is feeling alone, when she finds herself overcome with longing to know those of her family that were gone even before her birth—she cannot understand that she will never be able to take comfort in her arms again.

She is aware that she is not alone in her grief, and that there are others who will comfort her, if she allows them to—Henry, Graham, Ruby, Rosanna and even Roland will hold her, allow her to cry on their shoulder—and she knows that ought to be enough for her…

But it is not.

None of them understand the double kind of grief—she is not only grieving the loss of her mother and her grandfather, but also the loss of her own innocence.

Upon seeing her mother and her grandfather die, she had lost all semblance of control—she had killed well over thirty men with no more than a wave of her hand.

Including King George, Roland's wife and her own betrothed.

And though she feels guilt for their deaths, she cannot deny that she  _loved_  it too—she loved the overwhelming feeling of power. She'd loved knowing that the world was at her fingertips—knowing that she could have taken it and no one would have had the power to stop her.

Not even the Dark One's powers rival hers.

And this… The conflicting feelings that the battle and its end awoke within her are a kind of struggle her brother and uncle—or Rosanna or any of her friends—cannot understand, even if they would try.

They're all so inherently  _good_.

None of them have ever committed a crime as heinous and twisted as the ones she committed earlier, and they cannot offer her genuine comfort—they cannot understand the thrill her powers can give her, the lure it involves.

She knows that if Roland had not stopped her, if he had not spoken to her and drawn her attention away, she would have continued killing, and she would have  _loved_  doing it—and that terrifies her beyond anything else, because she no longer has anyone to tell, she has no one who will understand the struggle of being on the edge between good and evil.

She could have  _hurt_  someone she loves—she could have hurt Henry or Rosanna or little Bae—and she knows, deep down, that she would have been so caught up in the thrill of her power that she would not have cared.

She is snapped from her dark, spiralling thoughts by a soft, gentle voice, floating towards her from her opened balcony doors. "Princess," Roland offers her a kind, understanding smile that she loathes almost as much as she loathes him at this moment.

She looks away from him, unwilling to think about the onslaught of emotions that his presence brings on, and curls up into a slightly smaller ball on her window seat. "Go away," she says hoarsely, "Have you not heard? I kill those that betray me—look what I did to my own betrothed. I might just kill you as well."

He chuckles humourlessly—she cannot fault him, there is little humour to be found in this situation—and enters her room. "You're not going to hurt me, lass. I'm not going anywhere."

Leia sighs and rests her head against the wall, taking a few deep breaths to stave off the lingering desire to use her magic to make him submit to her will—she knows she could do it and he knows so too. "You should go see to your  _wife_ , thief. I know I didn't leave much, but I do not wish to see the filth of her corpse on my courtyard any longer than I have to. You've no more business here, and you have made it abundantly clear whose side you were on when you married George's bastard child."

She knows she sounds as though she cares too much—and she cannot, it is ridiculous, they had barely known each other, and she had been a  _child_ —but she is hurt by the obvious betrayal.

She had believed that, after their adventure together, he had known that not all royalty was the same—she had believed he knew her family was victimized as his was—that even if he did not believe her mother and grandfather were different, he knew  _her_  well enough to realize she was not like other royalty.

She had believed that despite his mother's teaching's, he had learned that he could trust her and her family. And he, despite his knowledge of King George's hand in his father's death, had married Brianna—King George's daughter.

It had hurt more than she had expected—she had trusted him, and hearing that he had married the daughter of one of their biggest enemies had broken her heart in a way she had not realized it could be broken.

Of course, in her heartbreak, she had made many a mistake—such as letting Prince Derek into her life, her home (and her bed)—and had convinced herself that she could become happy in a marriage that involved little understanding.

After all, Henry's marriage was a happy one, and he was no longer in love with his wife either.

Derek had been kind to her, but he had never understood her thirst for knowledge and adventure, and had even gone as far as to disapprove of it, at times.

In hindsight, she can only be pleased that she never married him—knowing how he betrayed her,  _used_  her—and a little satisfied that she had made every vein in his brain pop until he bled to death.

"I am not leaving, Leia," Roland replies stubbornly—and though that does not surprise her, the use of her name does. He has only once called her by her name—she will never forget the feeling of his warm breath on her lips, the sound of her name falling from his lips like the softest caress—and it has been many a year since then.

She does not want to think of it much—if she does, it will indicate that she cares, and she is not certain she  _can_  care anymore. She is not certain her heart can take much more disappointment and heartache. She  _resents_  him and his mother for siding with the man who was responsible for so much pain and loss in her family, but she cannot loathe  _him_.

She had relied upon him, trusted in him, once upon a time, and though those feelings are long gone, she longs for it to return—she  _yearns_ for it.

She feels oddly disconnected from the entire world at this moment—she supposes watching her mother bleed to death and seeing the woman who married  _her_  thief behead grandfather and murdering an entire battalion of soldiers does that to a person.

She had also locked Marion away in an impenetrable cage once Roland had calmed her and she had regained enough control over her powers to use it—none but Leia and Henry will be able to enter the cage, and she cannot understand that Roland does not loathe her.

She had imprisoned his mother and murdered his wife and he is still looking at her as he did when she was fifteen and innocent and impressionable and thirsty for adventure and a life outside her castle walls.

"Why?" She whispers, emotions battling each other in the privacy of her mind, her mood switching almost uncontrollably, her head and heart aching as confusion wars with grief and pain and barely-controlled rage in her mind, "Why would you not leave? I murdered your wife."

She looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I am going to have your mother executed—and if I do not, Henry will. It is his duty as our King to protect us—our family and the people in our Kingdom—and your mother…" She trails off uncertainly and once looks down, unwilling to see the hatred in his eyes.

She knows it will be there.

How can it not be?

She had truly hated the man who was responsible for her parents' death—she still does—she had killed him and made him suffer and she  _loathes_  that she enjoyed it.

She does not even feel the single tear run down her cheek—nor did she sense his sudden approach. She only notices when he kneels before her, his thumb wiping the tear from her cheek in a tender caress that has every single one of her nerve-endings spontaneously combust.

She meets his gaze and manages something that she is certain can pass as an amused smile at the many questions that shine in those intense, dark brown orbs.

"Why?" She whispers again, the desire and longing to know the answer growing from somewhere deep within her heart. "Why would you not hate me?" The anxiety and anger that had been wrecking through her body and had left its marks—she had not felt her hands ball into fists, nor had she noticed the tiny, crescent-shaped marks her nails left in her own skin as they dug in.

But where Leia had been ignorant to the mutilation of her skin, Roland—obviously—had not been so, and his ever-present worry had won out on his rationality.

His eyes are dark and beautiful and there is no hate in them at all, and  _she does not understand_.

"I'm not cross with you," he whispers, a sad, small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, "I understand. My mother is blinded by her hatred for your family when you have done nothing to her—she's a danger, and I know this. I have tried to curb her anger… I married Brianna to sate her desire for revenge, but she was undeterred. Had I known what they were planning—Mother, Brianna, Derek… I would've stopped them."

She does not possess her mother's superpower, as the older woman had often called it, nor does Leia need it to know that Roland is telling her naught but the truth. Had he known about the plot that was afoot, he would have spoken against it and stopped it—perhaps the man she had once thought he was is not so far away after all.

She accepts his answer with a sharp, shaky nod as another tear rolls down her cheek.

"Do you—do you believe this makes me evil? What I did…" He is shaking his head even before she stops speaking—but she is convinced of the truth in her own words. Her actions against King George and his allies had are inexcusable, and she cannot shake the finality of her own conclusion.

"Leia," Roland says firmly, drawing her back to reality, "You are not evil. You are young, and beautiful and you  _are_  unimaginably powerful—you responded as any would have in your situation. If you had not taken them down, I would have. There is no dishonour in defending your family from those who seek to harm them."

"But I should not," she mutters stubbornly, "I cannot commit such acts and go unpunished—I am the land's Princess."

"Yes," he nods calmly, "You are. But you are also human, lass. You were betrayed by those you trusted—your betrothed, my wife,  _me…_ "

"No," she begins furiously, "No, Roland, you did no—", before Roland clasps his hand over her lips, silencing her retort while shaking his head furiously.

"I did," he whispers, "I did betray you—I married an enemy's daughter, and I was fully aware of what I was doing. I betrayed you, Leia, and for that, I am eternally sorry."

Her thoughts scatter at his short, sweet confession—perhaps he does, in fact, care more for her than she gives him credit for. But, when given the necessary amount of thought, it does not seem as though he would care about her as she may wish him to.

Of course, it is foolish to hope Roland would not notice her inner turmoil—and he responds to it as though he has done it a hundred times; he pulls her straight into his arms, presses his lips to her forehead and whispers that, somehow, everything will fall into place—for the both of them.

And she wants to believe him—she honestly wishes she could have faith in the future like he seems to have—but she cannot. She simply does not have the strength to convince herself that it will be alright—that everything will work out if she believes and fights for it.

She cannot—not anymore.

Her earlier desperation seems to find its way back into her heart, and this time, Roland's words and presence do nothing to alleviate the ache of her despair.

The tears that had clouded her vision earlier, but had not all fallen, are no longer controlled—before she even fully realizes  _why_ , she finds herself sinking into Roland's comforting embrace, accepting the strength it offers her as she sobs uncontrollably, for once allowing herself to feel the absolute terror the thought of her past actions bring upon her.

She is not ready to confront all of those demons—not yet.

Not her pain concerning her mother and grandfather's deaths, not her struggle between good and evil—light and dark magic—, and certainly not her feelings for the thief that is holding her as though she is the most precious treasure he has ever held.

And that is alright.

She is not ready yet—but she will be.

One day.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

Regina wrinkles her nose disgustedly as she stomps into the hospital, running right into a teary Savior and Pirate Captain outside a private hospital room. "Here," she says briskly, holding out the leather cuff Emma had insisted she bring, "Now is someone going to tell me why we need that infernal thing again?"

Emma glances towards the pirate briefly before shaking her head and sighing, "The Snow Queen attacked Anna and Elsa and me earlier—Anna took a Curse for me."

Regina wants to smirk at the devastation in the Savior's voice as she utters those words, but for some reason that completely alludes her, she cannot—the girl came back from the future, destroying her own Happy Ending in the process, to save their lives and Happy Endings, Regina's included.

Regina may be apathetic and cruel at times, but she is not one to be ungrateful.

Anna has deserved her respect, and she has done nothing but try to help everyone—Regina and Robin included. "What kind of Curse is it?" She finally inquires dryly, refusing to show Emma Swan any emotion or weakness.

"I'm not sure," Emma sighs, running her fingers through her tangled blonde locks, "Elsa's looking into it, but Anna made me promise to control her magic before she lost it… The cuff was the only thing I could think of on such short notice. She passed out before we could ask her what she meant though."

Regina wrinkles her nose in distaste when she has to admit that the cuff might indeed be a good idea to contain Anna's powers.

"I'm going to check if Elsa's found anything," Emma sighs, barely glancing at the pirate before leaving—she wonders what  _that_ 's about… It's been a while since those two were in the same room and  _not_  making eyes at each other.

Regina raises an eyebrow when the pirate simply sighs heavily and moves to the door, staring through the small glass window in the door with something akin to fear, heartbreak and love and it confuses her. As long as she had known him, Killian Jones has never been one for showing his emotions—if he had any at all—and weaknesses in front of anyone.

Of course, he's always been quite hopeless at hiding how he felt about the Savior.

"From that look on your face," she sneers—because she really can't help herself, he's an arrogant son of a bitch and she can't resist messing with him—, "I gather there are some trouble in paradise… And the time traveller has something to do with it."

He drops his head against the glass and groans—she can't resist a chuckle—before he turns to her and responds, "I assure you that whatever transpires between me and Emma is none of your concern, Regina."

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for him to continue.

He will.

He sighs and shakes his head, grumbling, "Emma is under the impression that my affections suddenly lie elsewhere—the thought of her having so little faith in me is…" He hesitates, and Regina feels slightly bad for pressuring him—she remembers all too well the sting of heartbreak when Robin had told her he couldn't trust her because she had been the reason Marian disappeared.

"Ah," she smiles wryly, "And I presume your acquaintance with young Anna is the one Miss Swan misinterpreted."

The pirate nods solemnly, his eyes once again straying towards the hospital room, and though Regina  _can_  see there is love in his gaze, it is not the kind of love Emma should worry about—it's quite amusing now that she has figured it out.

"How long have you known?" She inquires, raising a curious eyebrow at the pirate, rolling her eyes when he simply looks confused. "That Anna is your future daughter," she clarifies, "I take it Emma does not know."

"No," Killian sighs, rubbing his hand over his forehead in a tired gesture, "Lei—Anna made me swear not to tell. Emma's not ready to hear this yet; she's barely ready to hear how I feel about her, much less that we have a child on the way—or that our future is so tragic our daughter felt the need to come back in time and fix it."

Regina nods thoughtfully, biting back a snide comment—she can go back to teasing him later, when he's not so miserable.

After all, it is far more fun to mock him when he'll actually respond to it.

"Is Henry safe?" The Pirate's voice draws her from her thoughts, "Emma mentioned she would ask you about protection spells when she contacted you with her… talking phone."

Before Regina can respond, Emma returns, the young Ice Queen following in her wake, both women fidgeting nervously.

"Did you find something?" Killian immediately hurries towards the two women, and Regina follows, slightly more reluctant, "What kind of Curse is it? What can we do to reverse it?" There's a kind of desperation in his voice that makes them all wince—though Regina's is fairly certain that Emma is wincing for different reasons than she and Elsa are.

"Perhaps," Elsa suggests delicately, "perhaps we should find somewhere private… Where we may sit and talk calmly." She's eyeing the pirate nervously, and Regina can't truly blame her; everyone knows that the pirate sometimes has a ridiculously short fuse when it comes to the people he loves.

Even the young Ice Queen that met him a mere two weeks ago.

"No," the pirate shakes his head stubbornly, "No, I'm not  _leaving_  when she may very well be  _dying_  in our stead!"

Regina has to hand it to her, despite how distraught Miss Swan obviously is over her little spat with the Pirate, she does not freak out or accuse him of anything—she simply takes his hand in both of hers and whispers, "There's nothing you can do for her right now. Standing around  _watching_  her die isn't going to help her either. Help us find a solution."

She can see the Pirate cave before he even moves—he truly is hopelessly besotted when it comes to Emma Swan—and sighs, tapping her foot impatiently against the cool linoleum.

"Are you two done making eyes yet? I don't believe Anna has much longer," Regina deadpans, examining her nails—she's not going to show any kind of emotion over this; she  _refuses_  to.

"Fine," Hook sighs, turning and stomping towards a private room only two doors down from Anna's room, not once looking back to see if they are all following him—she's not sure if it's arrogance or self-preservation.

She raises an eyebrow at the two other women, who're still staring after Hook—both of their jaws sagging a little.

"Well," she drawls, "Let's get to it then."

.

.

.

Emma fidgets nervously as she watches Killian pace across the length of the room over and over again—he has not looked at her since they brought Anna to the hospital, and she knows he blames her for Anna getting hit.

Hell, even  _she_  blames herself, why  _shouldn't_  he?

"So," he says slowly, unsurely, "It's freezing her from the inside out?"

"Yes," Elsa replies dejectedly, "It's supposedly the most excruciating and horrible Curse one can cast—It freezes her blood as it streams through her veins. I've only read about this kind of Curse, but Anna seemed to think it was this Curse. She seemed very certain she was going to be in a lot of pain, and unable to control her magic… It's why she asked us to contain it before she did lose control."

Emma runs her hand through her hair and sighs, shaking her head.

"The only thing that can break her Curse is an act of True Love," she admits, "None of us here can provide that for her. I don't even know if she—"

"She's married," Killian interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathes in heavily, "He is her True Love. They broke a Curse before. Perhaps… If we can somehow return her to her rightful time, he could save her." He looks so hopeful it nearly shatters her heart, and she can't bring herself to tell him they can't open another time portal without risking undoing all the work Anna's already done to change the past.

"None of us are powerful enough to open such portal, Captain," Regina bristles angrily, "And even if we  _could_ , there is no guarantee that  _Anna_  would survive the trip through the portal in the first place."

Emma swallows thickly, looking down at her hands as she rapidly considers all the possibilities laid before them. "We have to do  _something_ ," she cuts in, feeling almost as desperate as Killian—she wants to fix this, she wants to be the Savior for this girl.

Killian was right all along—Anna came back to save their lives, and she's paying for it with her own, and Emma can't stand the idea of Anna dying after taking a Curse for her while Emma was being nothing short of horrible to her out of misplaced jealousy.

"Well, I—"

Complete chaos ensues when the ground suddenly shakes violently, interrupting whatever scathing remark Regina was about to make, tossing them all around like ragdolls. Emma smacks into Elsa and Killian, barely able to catch her breath before Regina stumbles and crashes into them, knocking the air right back out of Emma's lungs.

"What's happening?" Elsa cries when they manage to get to their feet—the ground is still quaking, but less violently so.

Emma gratefully accepts Killian's hand to help her up—it takes everything she has to keep herself from simply jumping in his arms and begging him to forgive her for jumping to conclusions—, her eyes widening when she sees the cut above his eye and his swollen lip.

"Are you okay?" she exclaims worriedly, her hands immediately reaching out to touch the wound, to relieve the ache, to do  _something_  to help him.

"I'm fine," he replies gruffly, stumbling when a slightly heavier quake rumbles through the entire hospital, "We need to go see to L—Anna."

She wants to protest—wants to tell him that she doesn't care about anyone but him right now, but the words stick in her throat at the look in his eye. She may not know what changed between him and Anna, but something did and  _he cares_. She knows he's cared for no one but her and himself in centuries, and she's smart enough to recognize that it's not something she should dismiss like it's nothing.

"Okay," she nods, grabbing his arm to balance herself when the ground shakes again, more violent this time, and jumps when several light bulbs blow out at the same time. Her heart is hammering in her chest, her breath wheezing—she's terrified of what is going on, because she can't control it and she can't stand the thought of Killian getting hurt.

His eyes soften when they catch hers, and it makes her feel marginally better—to know that even if he is mad at her, there is still some kind of affection in his eyes when he looks at her—when he catches her hand in his and explains, "She asked you to contain her magic, no? I fear this might be what she was afraid of."

Realization dawns on her and it makes her feel even more guilty—even when she was Cursed, having no idea what was going to happen to her, Anna had tried to tell them that her magic might be dangerous if not controlled.

"Of course," she exclaims, "We need to get the bracelet on her  _now_."

He's already out the door, the bracelet in his hand—she doesn't even bother to wonder how he got it from her pocket— _damn pirate_ —and chases after him, barely registering Elsa and Regina's shouted inquiries, tripping over her own feet several times as the hospital shakes violently.

"Killian," she yells when he crashes through the door to Anna's room, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight when a blood-curdling scream shatters through the otherwise silent hospital, punctuated by windows shattering everywhere.

Before she can do more than stare at the mass-destruction, another heavy quake knocks her off her feet—her head smacks against the wall and for a moment, she sees nothing but sparks and stars, and her blood is pounding in her ears. ' _Come on_ ,' she tries to will her body to get up, to fight its way to the door, to make sure Killian is okay, but her body feels heavy and sluggish and she  _can't_   _move_.

The world is spinning around her and she can't focus—she hates that she feels so powerless, and for the first time, she realizes how powerful Anna's magic is, and how glad she is that Anna is—was—on their side.

"Emma!"

Killian comes running out of the room—at least she thinks he does, because the world is still spinning—, dropping to his knees before her and suddenly all she can see is  _blue_  eyes—she's drowning in his eyes but she doesn't mind.

She can see his lips moving but there's no sound and everything feels weird and fuzzy—but it's okay because he's here and he'll take care of her .

He always does, she muses as the world goes black.

.

.

.

**Abandoned Manor on the outskirts of western woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

"Well, milady?" George tilts his head to the side and studies the magnificent woman before him, still slightly awed by her beauty and power. This is the kind of woman he would have liked to have by his side when his worthless  _son_  had betrayed him by refusing to marry Princess Abigail—certainly with this woman, this  _Queen,_  by his side, he would have been victorious in his battle against Snow White and the  _shepherd_.

"I have eliminated the new girl," she replies dismissively, "She will die within the next day, I presume. This Curse never takes too long to culminate."

He smiles, satisfied with that outcome—he did not know the girl, and that made him  _very_  nervous. He knows the other  _Charmings_  all too well—they're  _heroes_ , they all react the same way to certain stressors and he and his Queen have a perfect plan laid out to utilize every single one of those to  _their_  advantage. With the strange girl out of the way, their plan is now back on track, and they can resume taking out the entire Charming family one by one.

"Soon, darling," the Queen purrs, patting his cheek lightly, making him wince when he feels frostbite travel from her fingertips onto his skin, "Soon the kingdoms shall be ours." A wickedly beautiful smile curls onto her lips, "As they always should have been."

He smirks and nods—the kingdoms will be theirs; and then they will be his when he puts the Queen back in her Urn, where she can rest until he has need for her again.

And he will win.


	7. Chapter Six—Across The Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo?
> 
> SPOILERS FOR 4x12 EVERYONE, STOP READING IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET.
> 
> Is anyone there? Still alive after that episode and the knowledge we'll have to wait three months for the real CS conversation? I'm disappointed, but I do kind of understand why they waited, though it's not something I would have done if I wrote it. The build-up felt disproportionate to what we actually saw from Emma and Killian and Gold. I DID love the whole Belle-to-the-rescue thing though, so I'm overall rather happy :D
> 
> YOU CAN READ AGAIN =D
> 
> So, about this chapter, and Emma's reaction to Killian and Leia's relationship in general, yes-it is a little like one step forward, two steps back. My Emma is still scared and though she's trying her best to trust Killian with her heart, it's a BIG step for Emma, so when she sees what she perceives as a threat, she backs away really f'ing fast.
> 
> And yes, of course her hormones are starting to play up as wel ;)
> 
> Okay, now... Just a little sidenote, I've been picturing Roland (Future Roland that is, who will be featured in the next chapter) looking somewhat like Bellamy Blake from The 100 ;) Just an FYI.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Leave a little review! You know you waaaaannaaaa :D
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thanks to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing!

**Chapter Six **—Across The Universe****

_Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup_  
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe  
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind  
Possessing and caressing me

 _Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes_  
They call me on and on across the universe  
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box  
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe

 _Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears_  
Inciting and inviting me  
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns  
It calls me on and on, across the universe

_Nothing's gonna change my world._

_—Across The Universe, The Beatles_

**Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—19 years into the future**

"So," Henry leans back on his throne—his  _grandfather's_  throne (and his  _mother's_ ), he remembers with a sharp pang of pain to his heart—, staring at the young man before him, trying to discern any of Robin's features in his face, "You're the one that took care of my sister when she ran away?"

Roland looks up at him defiantly and Henry can't resist a chuckle—there's that spirit he was looking for. "I was… She almost got herself killed when she ran into George's soldiers; I stepped in. I might have had somewhat disillusioned ideas about royalty, but even I would not stand by and let grown men attack a defenceless fifteen-year-old girl."

Henry inclines his head and sighs heavily, the weight of his grief momentarily suffocating him before he manages to get a hold of himself, reminding himself that he has many things to live for—to fight for. He has his wife and his son, his uncle and his sister and his entire kingdom.

 _Leia's_  kingdom.

"I am grateful for that," Henry finally speaks, smiling sadly at Roland, "For a while, we were afraid we'd never see her again. And thank you," he leans forward, his eyes burning with unshed tears and his heart clenching with pain, "for stopping her from doing something she would truly regret today. I do not presume to know how you managed to get through to her, but all I care about is that you  _did_."

He had been terrified to see his sister lose herself to her power when she took down their foes, terrified because he couldn't help her, he couldn't bring her back from sinking into the darkness—but Roland had.

Roland  _had_  been able to talk Leia down from the edge, and Henry will be forever grateful for that.

Henry watches the younger man shuffle around awkwardly and chuckles, rubbing his fingers over his forehead as he contemplates how to broach the next subject.

"I knew your dad," he says slowly, eyeing Roland curiously, "and I know he'd be proud of you."

He watches as Roland stiffens, his jaw thickening with tension.

Henry sighs and adds, "I'm not telling you because I want to rub in that I knew him—I'm telling you because I realize that you probably don't have a lot of memories of him. I'm telling you this because I think you should know that your father would be proud of you." He doesn't mean to sound forceful or angry, but his patience is worn thin today and damn it, he is just trying to be nice.

Roland is silent for a long moment before he nods tersely.

"Thank you," he replies gruffly, looking down at his feet before continuing, "And I do care for Leia—I didn't want to see her lose herself either."

Henry smiles wryly—his sister just  _had_  to inherit his mother and grandmother's taste in men, didn't she?—and looks down again, biting his lip as he considers his options.

He and his mom and grandpa had decided, before  _everything_  had happened, that they wouldn't ask Leia to take the throne to the Charmings' kingdom until she'd turned twenty-one, at the very least. Right now, Henry is King to both kingdoms—the one that had been his grandma's by birth right and the kingdom the Charmings had taken back from George and Regina—but he knows that reigning over a kingdom that large on his own simply  _isn't_  doable.

The throne to the Charmings' kingdom should be Leia's, they had all agreed, and it will be hers too, once she feels she is capable of becoming Queen—which, to his regret, also pertains to the day she'll have to pick a suitor and marry.

He'll be very careful to look at the men she'll be spending time with after the Prince Derek fiasco—he refuses to let his sister get played like that again, and he hasn't forgiven himself for not seeing it as a ploy to take their throne.

He likes Roland though—he had when Roland was a kid and he does now. He supposes he wouldn't mind so much if his sister decided to spend some more time with him.

"What about my mother?" Roland's question catches Henry off-guard, and he's not entirely sure what to say. He feels horrible, but according to the laws, Maid Marion will have to be either executed or locked up for life on treason charges, and he's pretty sure Roland knows that too.

"For now," Henry sighs, "I'll leave her where she is. If you wish, I can ask Leia to let you into the  _cell_  as well." He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, "But I can't let her go, Roland. She attempted to have all of us killed, including my  _three-year-old son._  Even if I wanted to, I can't—"

"That's not what I meant," Roland interrupts harshly, surprising Henry a little with his candour, "I just… If she is to be executed for her crimes…" they both swallow thickly and look away from each other, "…I just want to say goodbye to her. I want her to know that I forgive her. That is all."

Henry inclines his head and offers Roland a sad smile. "I can grant you permission for that."

Roland nods tensely and the two men fall silent.

"I suppose," Henry says after a short, tense silence, "that you would like to know why I asked you to come see me before you left." He knows Roland snuck into the castle late last night—or early this morning—and into Leia's bedchambers—he's certain nothing happened; Leia needed comfort, not romance; so he let it slide—and it intrigues him to see someone so invested in his baby sister's happiness.

It also gives him hope when he's certain he can't feel any positive emotion anymore.

Roland nods, looking up at Henry with something quite close to respect in his eyes. "Aye, that would be pleasant—a thief does not get granted an audience with the King without being under arrest all that often."

Henry chuckles—and he once again wonders how he can feel  _amused_  and  _laugh_  when he just watched his mother and his grandfather  _die_ —and moves, slowly getting up from his throne to approach the younger man that might have become his step-brother, had Fate been kinder to them. "My sister," Henry starts slowly, hesitantly—he doesn't want to do this, he doesn't  _want_  to be right about this, but he knows Leia, and he knows it's only a matter of time—, "My sister needs… Freedom," he concludes, "She needs to be out in the world and feel unburdened by palace life, especially now."

He looks down, willing the horrifying image of his mother and grandfather's mangled bodies from his mind, and sighs, "To be honest, were I not King, I would need the same thing. But Leia… Leia is wild and untamed and she needs to be free."

He can see the bewilderment in Roland's eyes, and he supposes he needs to be more precise about what he needs from him—but it feels  _necessary_ , even if he is saying these things only for his own benefit. "Leia is going to leave the castle," he continues bluntly, "Whether tomorrow or next week, she's going to leave."

"Apologies," Roland shakes his head and sighs, "But I fail to see why this would concern me."

Henry claps his hand on Roland's shoulder, looking the young man in the eye as he chokes, "I need you to take care of her when she leaves—keep her out of danger. I know you care for her, and I know you travel the whole kingdom… Take her with you—show her the world if she desires to see it… And then bring her home.  _Please_."

Henry can see the confusion and conflict in the young man's eyes—he does not really want to think about why he is willingly letting his baby sister travel the kingdom, on her own, with someone she has a somewhat complicated but romantic history with (that is what he managed to understand, in any case, last time she had gotten drunk on Grumpy's wine and came crying to him), but he knows that he is going to have to let her go either way, and he'd rather it'd be with someone he knows and trusts than with a stranger.

"Leia is perfectly capable of handling herself, Your Highness," Roland replies a little frostily, "I assure you she will not take to having a babysitter assigned to her care lightly."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Henry grumbles, turning around to resume his seat on the throne, "But I'm willing to deal with my sister's wrath if I know she'll be safe." He almost chokes on the next words, because no matter how true they are, it doesn't make them hurt any less, it doesn't bring back his  _mom_  or his grandpa, and he  _needs_  them—so much it feels like he's falling apart at the seams and barely holding it together.

"I need to know she'll be okay," he whispers, "She, Graham, Rosanna and my boy are all that is left of our family—I  _need_  her to be okay. I can barely hold myself together," he admits shakily, "I am not strong enough to be her shoulder to cry on as well."

The admission takes a lot out of him and he loathes that he feels that way because he knows he is all Leia has right now—Ruby, Graham and Rosanna notwithstanding—he is her big brother and he should be there for her when she needs him, but he just  _can't_.

He can't.

But he needs to know Leia is okay, and he knows that if she is with Roland Hood, she'll be okay.

 _'After all,_ ' he muses as he waits for the younger man's answer,  _'Roland really is his father's son._ '

.

.

.

**Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

Emma feels restless, almost like a caged animal.

She should be out there, fighting to protect the town and her family, the people she loves—instead, her parents had practically ordered her to stay at the hospital, refusing to let her leave (they'd even gone as far as threatening to have Regina magically seal her in Anna's hospital room to keep her there) after she'd hit her head on the wall and lost consciousness for literally a few seconds.

She rolls her eyes impatiently—studiously ignoring how it makes her feel just a little bit dizzy—and glances at the girl on the bed behind her.

As it turned out, it  _had_  been Anna's magic spinning out of control that had caused the massive earthquakes all throughout Storybrooke, and she loathes to think what might have happened had Killian not realized what was going on and clapped the cuff on Anna's arm.

Of course, the bracelet has only taken away Anna's magic—and it is not even a permanent solution. It has not erased her ability to scream at the top of her lungs like she's a pig for slaughter (maybe Emma's exaggerating a little, but she's in a really foul mood and she can't help but feel hostile towards the girl who she believes is responsible for her problems with her pirate).

(And okay, it is really not Anna's fault at all, just Emma's, but she refuses to acknowledge that, because that would mean admitting she was wrong, and she just… She doesn't know how to.)

But because Anna insisted on being noble enough to take a damn Curse for Emma, she lost control over her magic after being hit by said Curse and then knocked Emma against a wall—which made her parents exclude her from the search for the Snow Queen and King George.

Yeah, Emma has very few warm feelings for the girl right now.

Anna's been quiet for a while now, and despite Elsa being convinced the Curse should have killed her by now, Anna's heart monitor shows a steady heartbeat that only spikes when the Curse spreads—which was when she was screaming her head off.

They'd even tied Anna's hands and legs to the bed rails, to keep her from trashing around and accidentally hurting herself or anyone around her.

Regina theorized that maybe Anna's magic—now forced into submission by the cuff—was such an inherent part of Anna (perks of being born with True Love's Magic) that even the cuff couldn't take it away, only contain it, forcing it to turn its eye to the Curse that was trying to destroy Anna and fight it off.

Nothing can fight it off indefinitely though, and Regina suspects if this is the case (and it likely is), Anna's magic is only slowing down the Curse. The only visual effect of the Curse on Anna's body so far are her fingertips, which are blue and icy, clearly already frozen.

Well, that and she's completely out of it—when she's not unconscious, she's screaming in pain or begging random people to make it stop.

Emma grumbles when an elder nurse shuffles into the room again—to check on Anna's vitals as well as Emma's—and settles into the chair next to Anna's bed, forgoing the argument this time. The nurse may be graying and wrinkled, but the woman  _commands_  a certain type of respect with her steely gaze that even Emma's innate stubbornness knows not to mess with.

"How are you feeling, Sheriff?" the woman kindly inquires when she's done with Anna, moving to check Emma's pulse and pupils, "No headache or dizziness?"

"Nope," Emma sighs, wincing a little when the nurse moves to stand behind her to examine the small wound on the back of her head, "I feel just fine. Can I go now?" She grumbles under her breath when the nurse reminds her that she promised David and Snow she wouldn't leave the room before they came back to get her and crosses her arms over her chest, narrowly managing to stop herself from pouting like a petulant toddler.

"Fine," she mumbles, glaring at Anna's still form on the bed, "Fine. I'll wait."

She's not sure how long she sits like that after the nurse leaves the room again—she wagers it's actually been quite some time, since her arms and legs feel stiff as she gets up from the chair again—staring at Anna, wondering how one little girl could have stirred so many conflicting feelings in both her and Killian.

She hates to think about him right now—he'd barely even spoken to her when she had awoken; he'd just helped her to her feet before handing her over to her parents and moving to stand with Regina and Elsa—which had been a very clear statement to Emma.

He doesn't want anything to do with her right now.

(And she knows she can't blame him, not really, but she can't help it, because she  _knew_  it. Eventually, everyone leaves.)

She's abruptly broken from her musings when Anna stirs, the heart monitor emitting a shrill, high beep that gives her goosebumps as Anna moans painfully, her head rolling across the pillow as she struggles lightly against the soft leather cuffs that hold her arms restrained.

Emma stares at her for a split-second, wide-eyed and a little scared, because she might be a little prickly and angry right now, but she's not heartless, and she can't stand seeing a girl as young as Anna suffering through a horrid Curse that had actually been meant for her.

"Anna?" She moves hesitantly to Anna's side, reaching for her hand, "Anna, I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I'm here, okay? You'll… You'll be okay." For a moment, she feels bad about the lie, but then she can't because the girl will  _have_  to be okay—she's far too young to die like this, far too vibrant and strong and Emma can't let the damn Snow Queen kill someone the way she had killed Ruby—the way she is now trying to kill Anna.

She's going to find a way to cure Anna, no matter what it takes.

And then she can go back to being angry at her.

Anna just moans in pain and continues to pull at her restraints, but Emma takes some comfort in the fact that she's not screaming in pain yet.

And then Anna's eyes flutter open, the bright blue that feels so hauntingly familiar clouded with pain and confusion, but locked on Emma's in a way that unnerves her greatly. "Mama," Anna whimpers, "Mama, I tried. I'm so sorry. I tried—Mama…"

Emma's heart skips a beat and she chokes, pulling her hand away from Anna's like it burned her.

No… She shakes her head at herself and tells herself she's being ridiculous—there's no way… She would know, and it's not possible. She and Killian only spent one night together and it had barely been two weeks, and it's just…

Not. Possible.

"Mama, please," Anna whimpers, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I'm so sorry."

Anna came back from the future to make sure that the people—that she obviously does care about—wouldn't die, and she'd very obviously been trained in the same kind of magic Emma only recently realized she has as well.

What if she  _is_?

Emma swallows thickly, her eyes locked on Anna's face, cataloguing every little thing—from the small indent in her chin (one that she loathes to admit she has too) to her thick, dark eyelashes, framing blue eyes that are  _too_  painfully familiar.

No.

No, Anna is not her daughter—Emma  _can't_  deal with what it would mean if she  _is_.

She'd have to go through everything she went through with Henry all over again, because she  _can't_  take care of a baby—she can barely take care of herself—she's just not meant to be a real mother and she…

She can't.

Because Anna told them she didn't have a father.

Killian wouldn't be there to struggle with parenthood with her.

It would mean she's  _alone_  again—that another man left her pregnant and alone and she can't deal with that, not even if it's just a possibility.

Anna's not her daughter.

_She. Is. Not._

"Sweetie," Emma chokes, stumbling back to the bed to hold Anna's hand, mentally telling herself that the girl is just scared, that it's normal to ask for her mother, that it doesn't mean  _Emma's_  her mother, "I'm sorry—it's okay… It's going to be okay."

Anna's hallucinating and in a lot of pain, of course she would ask for her mother, it's only natural.

That's what Emma tells herself anyway.

She sits by Anna's bed, holding her hand and whispering calming words for her benefit as well as Anna's—she doesn't allow herself to stop and think about the repercussions of Anna's words. She ignores the signs and big flashing arrows in her mind that try to convince her that it is  _not_  a coincidence that Anna called  _her_  'Mama'.

It must be hours later when her phone rings, startling her from her spiraling thoughts—thank God for that, because she is seconds from another panic attack at the mere thought that the girl dying in the hospital bed could be her daughter.

If Anna dies, she will be responsible for her own daughter's death.

(She doesn't think she could handle that, so she refuses to think upon it any more. Anna's hallucinating. That's all there is to it.)

"Hello?" She asks curtly when she picks up, focusing on Mary-Margret's voice immediately, latching onto the story her mother is telling her, her heart speeding up when Mary-Margret regales how they tracked down King George with an old sword they'd gotten out of Gold's shop and a particularly nifty tracking spell from Regina—it had tracked down George and magically bound him wherever he was until they got there and took him.

"So, you have him at the station right now?" Emma gets to her feet, running her fingers through her hair, "I'm leaving now, I'll be there—"

"No!" Mary-Margret exclaims, and Emma stops dead in her tracks, frowning angrily—she's about to ask why the hell they would want to keep her in the hospital when her mother continues, rambling like she does when she's nervous. "No, look, someone should stay with Anna at all times—we can't risk the Snow Queen coming in and finishing her off. We still might find a cure for her and someone has to be there to hold her hand, Emma."

Emma groans petulantly, stomping over to the chair and throwing herself down on it, grumbling, "Well then send someone over here to sit with her. I did not sign up for babysitting duty."

"Well, we wouldn't want to inconvenience  _the Savior_ , now would we?" A very different voice sounds from the door—Emma jumps, her eyes wide as she takes in Killian's unusually cold demeanor, before muttering a quick goodbye to her mother and hanging up.

"Killian," she says shakily, trying not to look into his eyes as she gets to her feet, fidgeting nervously.

Now that he's here, she can see the things that she's been trying not to notice—the resemblances between Killian and Anna that are  _so_  painfully obvious she feels like a complete idiot for not seeing it sooner—and then it hits her again.

She's going to have a child with the man standing before her.

And he won't be there to help her—she doesn't know what happens to him, she really doesn't know anything, but she doesn't need to.

He leaves her.

He leaves her and she'll be pregnant and alone and it'll be Neal all over again.

"What are you waiting for?" He asks impatiently, one eyebrow raised at her—God, he looks  _just_  like her, how could she not have seen it?—, "I'm sure L—Anna wouldn't want to stand in the way of your  _crucial_  Savior-business."

And it's the second time he almost says something other than Anna when he's referring to the girl and it just makes Emma snap—it's a confirmation of something she didn't want to have confirmed  _at all_.

He knows.

" _Stop_  that, okay?" She cries out, shoving at him roughly, ignoring the burning of tears in her eyes. She can't explain why she lashes out at him—she just… he's there and she knows he's going to break her heart by leaving her and she's  _so scared._

"Stop pretending you don't know!" She spits—all the pieces of the puzzle are clicking together now, and she's terrified of what the entire image will look like, but she knows she's on the right track.

 _That_ 's what changed between Killian and Anna.

He knows who she is.

He found out they have a daughter and he didn't bother to tell her about it!

"Pretend I don't know  _what_?" He replies exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air as he stalks past her into the room.

She slams the door (no need to give the entire hospital a show) and glares at him, because he really has no right to be mad at her— _he's_  the one keeping secrets and conspiring with this girl about God knows what while everyone else, including her, is in the dark.

" _Don't_ ," she hisses angrily, "don't. She called me ' _Mama'_. I  _know_." Her voice nearly breaks and she wants to slap herself for sounding so goddamn vulnerable, because she can't be, she needs to be strong, because things are going to hell and she's going to have to take care of herself again, just like always.

Killian's eyes are wide and a little surprised, but she knows it's because he didn't expect her to find out, not because he's surprised they have a daughter.

"Emma, I—"

She cuts him off, shaking her head as she desperately searches for things she can use to continue to fight, to show him that she doesn't need him, because even if she does, it'll be better if he leaves now than later, when it's too late and he has her heart.

She can keep him at a safe distance now.

"So what, you found out and had fun planning how to get me knocked up? Like we didn't have enough shit to deal with?" The words feel like acid on her tongue, but she needs to say them because they're her only weapon against him and she needs it.

"Are you  _that_  desperate to get me to love you?" Her voice sounds cold and heartless even to her own ears, and she begs herself to stop, to not ruin this too, but she  _can't_.

He  _lied_  to her.

"Trying to get me knocked up so I'd stay with you out of obligation," she laughs hollowly and glares at their daughter's still form on the bed before sneering, "Usually it's done the other way around, but I guess you always were the woman in this relationship. You know it won't work though, right?" She shrugs carelessly and tries not to look at him as she notes, "I'll just give her away, like I did Henry. Or have an abortion. I'm sure it's early enough."

" _Enough_."

She's surprised by his voice, but the moment she looks up at him, she knows she crossed a serious line. (Oh God, she suggested  _killing_  her baby, what the hell is  _wrong_  with her?)

"Enough," he repeats in the same icy, call voice that makes her hair stand on end, "I am _not_ a desperate little boy you may yank around as you please,  _Swan_. I did not fight my way through a Curse and two realms simply because I wanted to bed you—if that were it, I would have left the night Elsa came into town and you know it."

She swallows thickly, trying to find something to say, something witty or smart—anything to get him to  _stop talking._

"You should stop thinking the world revolves around you," he remarks, and she is still unnerved by how calm and collected he sounds, because he's a passionate man, and this is unlike anything she's seen from him before. "You're  _so_  caught up in how people have wronged  _you_  before that it doesn't even  _occur_  to you that you're  _not the only one_."

"No!" Emma cries, her mood switching from fear to anger so fast she nearly gives herself a whiplash, "No! You don't get to pretend you  _understand_! You can't understand what I had to go through!  _Nobody_  can—they  _left_  me! Everyone  _leaves_  me—even you are going to leave me, so  _don't you dare_!"

"But I  _do_  understand," he shouts back, his voice hoarse and angry and  _hurt—_ and God, she wants to stop this, she should, because she can't stand it when he's hurting, but she's  _too scared_ —, "my mother  _died_  when I was four! My father  _abandoned_  me two years later and I had to live  _on the streets_  until Liam found me! I had no one but him and he died too! And then Milah died because of the Crocodile's petty jealousy and I was  _alone_  again! I  _understand_  all too well, Emma."

Her eyes are wet with tears as she chokes, "And yet you leave me anyway."

"No," he shakes his head, stalking forward to grab her shoulders and shake her lightly, "I don't  _leave_ , Emma. I  _die_  for you—for  _her_. So you could live. And do you know what you do?" His voice is thick with pained and suppressed emotions that seem to force hers out into the open without her consent, "You  _abandon_  our daughter. You make her think that everything she does is  _wrong_ —that you wish she hadn't been born so you wouldn't need to be reminded of  _me_."

Emma whimpers, squeezing her eyes so she won't have to look at him—so she can shut out what he's telling because she can't handle it.

She would never… She wouldn't.

Would she?

"You may have been dealt a shitty hand at the start of your life," Killian hisses, and she can hear the fear and the frustration in his voice, "But that gives you  _no right_  to treat me and our child the way you blame others for treating you. It makes you no better than them, no matter what excuse you tell yourself."

She can't hold back the pained sob that falls from her lips at that because  _he's right_  and it's horrible because she doesn't  _want_  to believe she will treat her child like that if she were to lose Killian but she  _knows_  that it's not unlikely.

She knows she might start pushing everyone away and that her baby would suffer because of it.

"Killian," she chokes, blinking up at him as tears roll down her cheeks, her fingers curling into his lapels, holding him to her—she  _does_  notice he doesn't try to pull away anymore and it offers her some meager comfort—as she sobs into his shirt, barely noticing how he strokes her hair, running his fingers through it and gently massaging her scalp.

"Shh, Emma," he whispers, "Shhh. We know now—we know what is going to happen. We can do things differently. We can change our fate, love. We just have to trust each other and try.  _You have to trust me_."

She looks up at him in confusion, shaking her head a little. "Of course I trust you."

He looks away, but not before she sees the pain, the  _hurt_  she caused in his beautiful eyes, as he chokes, "Then why would you walk away from me? Why would you question my intentions at  _every_  turn?"

"I'm  _so_  scared," she chokes, terror coiling in her belly, always ready to prey upon her vulnerabilities and make her say and do stupid things, "Everyone I've ever been with is  _dead_. Neal, Graham," she snorts a little and adds, "Even Walsh. I  _can't_  lose you too, Killian."

She pulls back when he snorts, surprised to see tears in his eyes too when he whispers, "Do you honestly believe I am not frightened? I would gladly give my life if it meant you and Leia would be safe, love—you know that. I don't  _want_  to die, but I am not foolish enough to believe I am immune to death simply because I managed to elude it for some time."

"You can't die," she whispers, stroking his cheek gently, "I  _need_  you. I can't do this without you."

"Luckily, love," he smiles wryly, "if there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."

He pulls her in for a hungry kiss and she gladly lets him, the tension in her shoulders finally abating, little by little, until she's completely relaxed in his arms—she's missed this.

She's missed being in his arms, feeling  _safe_  and sound and  _comforted_.

She's missed  _him_.

He breaks the kiss only when her lungs are screaming for air—his must be too—pressing his forehead against hers as they sway together in the middle of the room. "I am still quite cross with you," he whispers, "for not believing in  _us_  enough to know I would never betray your trust and bed Leia. Not to mention she's our daughter, it's quite horrifying."

She sniffles a little, smiling sadly as she replies, "I know. I'm sorry. I just—wait." She pulls away from him and stares at him, eyes wide as she whispers, "I'm already pregnant, aren't I? And we name her Leia?"

"Aye," he nods, smiling tightly, "And she's strong and brave and bloody brilliant." He blinks rapidly a few times, swallowing thickly as he extricates himself from her embrace, moving to stand next to Leia's bed as he reaches for their daughter's hand.

"We'll find a way to make this better, little love," he whispers and Emma nearly bursts into tears all over again, "I promise, I'll make this right. You just have to hang on a little longer."

She's horrible at standing by and not doing anything, so she steps up next to him, reaching out to touch his hooked arm as she adds, " _We_ 'll find a way. That's what we do—we don't give up on each other." She scolds herself for feeling like a giddy teenager when Killian smiles at her before he leans down to press his lips to Leia's forehead, his hand still holding Leia's and Emma still touching his hook.

And then the room is filled with bright white light, nearly knocking Emma off her feet before it dissipates as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only twinkling little lights floating in thin air. Emma stares at Killian, who's as wide-eyed and surprised as she is, staring at the little lights in wonder and amazement.

"Took you long enough," a soft, hoarse voice draws their attention back to the bed, where their daughter lays, her eyes open and sparkling with amusement. "You did it," Leia tells Killian, "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Emma watches in stunned silence as Killian hauls Leia up into his arms, hugging her tightly as he chokes on his tears of relief.

A small smile fights its way up to her lips when Leia wiggles and manages to get one arm free from Killian's bear hug and stretches it out towards Emma. "Come on," Leia says softly—Emma can see the fear of rejection in her daughter's eyes, and she hates her future self for ever having made Leia feel rejected—, "You belong in this hug too, Mama."

Emma chuckles weakly and lets Leia drag her closer, wrapping her arms around her future daughter and her pirate.

Yes. She  _does_  belong here.


	8. Chapter Seven—Real Love—Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone :)
> 
> Welcome to my first post for Sands of Time in 2015! Happy New Year to you all! *kisses and hugs*
> 
> This chapter isn't terribly action-filled, nor was it supposed to be this short-I had to split it up because it was getting far too long for one chapter, so the next part will be updated soon, and will contain more action and violence. Just a head's up on that :)
> 
> Maybe some of you need a tissue warning for this chapter, but I don't think it's that bad.
> 
> Oh, right, some of you remarked on the fact that Leia is the next heir to the throne, not little Graham (because I refuse to call him Neal), but that's actually just because I'm not digging deeper on the whole thing with Royal succession lines. It's not about treating the kid like shit or not letting him have anything (he's still Prince and has a freaking castle, for God's sake), but because Emma was first in line to be heir to the throne.
> 
> Because of that (at least that's what I understood from the royal family here in Belgium), unless Emma's children were not of age, they are first in line for the throne, not little Graham. For instance, in 1993, our Belgian king died, but he had no children, so the throne went to his brother. Now that king retired and gave the throne to his eldest son, King Filip.
> 
> When King Filip passes on the crown, it'll be to his children, not his brothers or sisters, unless his children aren't of age yet.
> 
> That's the way royal succession lines work, as far as I know.
> 
> So, don't worry, it has nothing to do with Graham himself. He's just second in line for the throne, not first, like Leia and Henry.
> 
> Okay, well, don't have much more to say...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Please leave a review, they make my day! (And you know, right now, they'd make my year ;p)
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thanks to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing!

**Chapter Seven **—Real Love**** **—Part I**

_All my little plans and schemes_  
Lost like some forgotten dreams  
Seems that all I really was doing  
Was waiting for you

 _Just like little girls and boys_  
Playing with their little toys  
Seems like all they really were doing  
Was waiting for love

_—Real Love, The Beatles_

**Merry Men Encampment, The Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future**

They are snuggled together underneath the warm blankets, on their warm, improvised bed of furs, her back pressed tightly against his chest as his arms encircle her waist. Roland sighs contently—he loves this; he loves simply enjoying holding Leia, without any reservation.

He loves that he opened his heart to the possibility of  _them,_ that he didn't refuse when Henry asked him to take Leia with him when he and his men traveled the country.

"I love you," he whispers against the back of her head, his fingers tracing her—as of yet—empty ring finger before pressing a kiss against her messy hair. He's been thinking about asking her to become his wife more and more often lately—he wishes to have the marriage he had once hoped to have; before his mother told him to marry Brianna.

He knows that he could have it with Leia.

He  _wants_  to have that with her.

"I love you too," she whispers in response. He startles—he hadn't realized she was still awake—and grumbles under his breath when she giggles as she turns in his embrace to face him.

"You were supposed to be asleep," he grumbles playfully, pushing a few stray locks of hair from her face, watching her smile widen—his heart skips a beat. He had feared, when they had just left the castle, that he would never see her smile again.

That he would never see that delightful twinkle in her eyes ever again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she grins, raising an eyebrow at him as she slides her leg up over his to snuggle closer, "Would you like me to pretend to be asleep again so you can continue what would undoubtedly be a beautiful heartfelt speech?"

He snorts and pokes her, laughing as they wrestle playfully for a moment.

He manages to roll her onto her back and pin her, grinning down at her. She smiles back up at him and reaches up to tangle her fingers into his hair, pulling his lips down to hers—he has absolutely no objections and gives in happily, claiming her lips with his eagerly.

After a few slow, soft, languid kisses, he breaks the kiss—albeit very reluctantly—and rests his forehead against hers.

"Will you marry me?" He blurts, before really realizing what he's saying; judging by Leia's more than stunned expression, she hadn't been expecting the words any more than he had.

"Roland," she breathes, her eyes wide and filled with startling amounts of love, confusion, and hope.

"I mean it," he says quickly, leaning up on his elbows, "I am not saying this lightly—I want to marry you, but I… If you are not ready, then I—" He cuts off when Leia presses her fingers to his lips, shaking her head a little.

"Are you sure?" She whispers, tears shining in her eyes—God, he hates seeing her cry—, "Because I… I'm not  _pure_. Or innocent. And you deserve better."

He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at her—he  _knows_  she is not a blushing virgin; after all, he'd been the one to take care of that; and he does not care.

He never did.

"I  _know_  that," he deadpans, eyeing their position pointedly, grinning when she slaps his arm.

"No," Leia shakes her head desperately and he hates that he can still see the hint of self-loathing in her eye, "No, I mean… It's not just you. I've been with other men. When I heard you married, I lashed out and I wanted to—" she looks away, unwilling to meet his eye, and it  _breaks_  his heart to know how much he had hurt her.

In hindsight, he does see that he had hurt Leia in ways she should never have been hurt—in ways he should never have hurt her, even if he had not meant to.

He  _knows_  that he was a fool back then, to simply adhere to his mother's insistence on marrying a perfect stranger, even though by then, he had already been halfway in love with Leia—unbeknownst to Leia's family, he had never really stopped talking to her or seeing her after she returned to the castle.

He'd simply snuck in, or she snuck out, and though it felt foolish to be so wrapped around a sixteen-year-old girl's finger (he still feels like a fool, even four years later; all of his men know that Leia's really the one in charge, and he still can't bring himself to care even one little bit), he had never stopped sneaking in.

He'd enjoyed their conversations—because that was all their relationship had entailed back then.

Talking.

About everything and nothing (especially not about that one passionate kiss they had shared before Leia's Aunt Ruby tracked them down and nearly dragged Leia back to the castle).

And he had loved it.

Right up until the point that it abruptly ended, two years after they first met—shortly after Leia's seventeenth birthday.

At first, it really had been a night like all others—despite his knowledge of his impending marriage to King George's daughter, who he had never before laid eyes on, but who his mother insisted was the perfect woman for him.

Of course, he  _knew_  Brianna wasn't the perfect woman for him.

He already knew that title belonged only to Leia.

But he'd agreed to the union anyway, hoping that perhaps, it would sate his mother's need for vengeance—that it would stop her from looking for conspiracies everywhere.

And on his last night with Leia, he had intended to tell her of his impending betrothal—after all, though nothing had happened between them at that point (not since that kiss when she was fifteen), he had feelings for her and he was aware she was somewhat smitten with him.

Alas, he never got to the point where he had told her.

He is still not sure how they went from their usual storytelling and conversation to another passionate kiss—he'd been more aroused by one kiss from Leia than he had ever been from sleeping with his late wife, and he's spent a lot of time since cursing his own stupidity for not having kissed her again sooner.

One kiss had turned to many, and despite his best intentions, when Leia had told him she loved him and wanted him— _asked_  him to be her first (her  _only_ , she had even said)—he had not been able to say no.

He'd been selfish and had taken something from her that night—something he could never give her back, even if he would want to. He'd intended to stay, after she first fell asleep—he'd intended to stay and wait for the morning and ask her mother and grandfather and brother and uncle for her hand—but after a while, doubt had started to creep into his mind, and he  _couldn't_.

He had a responsibility to his family, and in trying to do right by his mother, he had broken Leia's heart in a way he never wanted to break it. If anyone else looked upon the situation now, without knowing his motives, they would see an older man taking advantage of an impressionable teenage girl.

Maybe, in a way, he did—but he never meant to.

He loves Leia, and he's almost sure he's loved her since he first met her in the woods, when she was fifteen and talking back against highly dangerous and trained guards that were there to capture her—or worse.

He leans down and kisses her forehead, wordlessly attempting to convey his apology for hurting her.

"—I wanted to erase you and your touch," she breathes shakily, "so I made mistakes. And Derek was just one of them." She's crying now, and he hates that she has such a skewed vision of herself that she believes he would not love her if he knew she had other lovers, and he once again wishes he could have gone back in time to smack himself in the face—to show his past self what was right in front of him.

"I care not, my love," he whispers, "I am not pure—does that mean you do not love me?"

"What?" Leia looks up at him, eyes wide and confused as she exclaims, "No, of course I love you! I wouldn't… I don't care."

He smiles brightly and leans down to press a kiss to her lips. "Then why would you presume I would feel any different about you? Your heart is pure, Leia—that is the only kind of purity I care about—and for you, I might even make an exception on that front."

She laughs weakly, pulling him down to kiss him, her tears tasting salty on his lips. "I will," she breathes when he pulls away, "I'll marry you."

His hands fist in her hair as he kisses her passionately, pouring every ounce of love he possesses for her into the kiss. His fingers curl themselves around her hips, pulling her towards him, inexplicably needing her to be closer to him.

She pulls away from him, though, kissing his cheek tenderly. "I love you," she whispers, "I'll always love you."

"And I you, my love," he replies when she wriggles around to get comfortable, "And I you."

He falls asleep with her in his arms and a smile on his face, but awakes mere hours later, alone in their tent, short one blanket. He stares up at the ceiling of the tent for a short while, trying to shake off all remnants of sleep before he moves to look for his future wife.

She is curled up in front of the campfire when he finds her, her hair tumbling down her back and their blanket wrapped around her shoulders loosely. He had woken to an empty tent, the wind howling outside and the familiar touch of Leia's magic lingering in the air before, so he was not all too surprised.

He supposes he should have expected this—it  _has_  been precisely seven months since they left the castle and what is left of Leia's family behind.

And though he knows she has regular contact with her brother, he does know she misses them.

His proposal must have brought up a lot of issues she had been avoiding—that  _they_  had been avoiding.

"Leia? Love?" He approaches her carefully, well aware that she is not always fully in control of her magic when she is this emotional—and he knows she would loathe herself if she were to hurt him accidentally. He touches her shoulder gently, sighing in relief when she leans back against his legs, raising her hand to touch his.

"I want to go back," she says softly after a short silence, "I  _should_."

His heart constricts painfully as she utters the words, though he is not wholly surprised by them—not as surprised as he supposes he should be. It was, after all, only a matter of time before she would realize where her true place in this world is—and it is not with him.

He had known.

But he had not cared—he had not thought to protect his heart from her—he had asked her to be his wife, knowing that one day, she would have to return to the throne. "Are you certain?" He finally manages to ask, and even though his voice is barely louder than a whisper, he knows she has heard him.

She tugs on his hand gently until he sits down in front of the fire with her, curling himself around her as he sits—he does not wish to lose her, and it feels as though he is. She is slipping from him, their connection, though still palpable and strong, feeling fainter than before—perhaps that is why he proposed tonight.

Perhaps his subconscious mind is simply trying to provide her with more reasons to stay.

She rests her forehead against his shoulder before she nods, and he can feel the small tear that drips onto his shirt when she does.

"But I do not wish to lose you," she continues in a strong, yet soft tone, "I've lost so many already, I—" She looks up at him with beautiful, tear-filled blue eyes, "I  _cannot_  lose you too." Her fingers curl around his as she whispers, "I would not survive if I did. I  _need_  you."

He smiles sadly and presses a kiss to her hair, squeezing her hand tightly. "I do not wish to lose you either, my love—I would think my proposal demonstrated that quite clearly—but a thief is hardly a worthy consort to the future Queen."

Leia snorts—he chuckles a little—and punches his arm softly. "My grandfather was a shepherd before he married my grandmother—who was a thief, at the time—and my father was a pirate, my mother's spent time in jail and stole her way through life until she was seventeen. I do not think anyone will be scandalized by adding another thief to the family."

"I suppose so," he concedes, locking her fingers between his, "But what would I know of life in court? You, my love, are the future Queen—Henry will need you by his side. There is no use for me there—even less so if you do set through with your plan to save your parents."

He tries not to sound angry or bitter—he is not, not truly, for she would be saving a lot more lives than simply those of her own family—but he does feel disappointed and somewhat hurt that the promise of their own Happy Ending is not enough to deter her from traveling back in time to stop everything that has taken place in the last twenty years from happening.

He cannot deny that it stings.

"I'll always  _need_  you, Roland," she exclaims—though she keeps her voice down as to not wake the men—turning in his arms to face him, "But I  _need_  to do this as well. What kind of person would I be if I knew I had the power and the knowledge to save my mother from decades of pain and didn't do it? I could save my grandmother, my father,  _your_  father… Roland, they would be getting their Happy Endings  _with_  us."

She raises her hand to touch his cheek tenderly, and because he is hopeless and smitten, he tilts his face into her touch.

"I can't have a Happy Ending without them, Roland," she whispers, "I can't live with myself if I didn't at least try to give them a fair shot at having their own Happy Ending. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't try—you wouldn't love me if I wasn't the person that would  _try_."

He cannot deny that—damn her for seeing through him—and sighs.

"I know, my love," he whispers, "I know. I simply worry—if you go… Love, you wouldn't be able to come back. We wouldn't—" The mere thought of never seeing her again feels like a dagger to the heart and he  _doesn't_ want to consider this possibility, but he knows it exists and he  _must_ ask her to consider it too.

There are tears shining in her eyes and pain etched upon her face and he loathes seeing her in agony, but there is nothing he can do to ease her pain this time—it is  _her_  decision, and while he will support her whatever she decides to do, it is  _she_  who has to make the choice. She has to decide if she wishes to return to her home, if she wishes for him to join her, if she still plans to go back in time to change the past.

"I don't want to choose now," she breathes eventually, sinking into his arms, her head nestling in the crook of his neck, and her arms sliding around his waist, clenching his shirt between her fingers.

He simply holds her and allows her to cry onto his shirt, moving to pull her blanket around her a little tighter before he scoops her up in his arms and carries her back to their tent. "You don't have to," he finally whispers, when they are curled up on the pillows and in their tent once again, "You do not have to decide now, Love. Sleep—there is time to worry tomorrow."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

"I want to come with you," Leia replies angrily, glaring at Emma as she prepares to join Mary-Margret and David at the station to interview George. Emma sighs— _of course_  Leia would inherit her stubbornness—and glares at Killian pointedly.

She's  _his_  daughter too, and he's staying with her, let him explain.

"Leia, you are still recovering," Killian says calmly, "and perhaps letting the Snow Queen believe you are dying is not a bad idea—it will give us the element of surprise when it's needed."

Emma grins at her daughter's forlorn expression and reaches out to run her fingers through Leia's messy locks before she can stop herself. "You'll live," she laughs, "and you know it's a good idea. If George 'hears' us talking about your death and he manages to 'escape', he'll lead us right back to the Snow Queen and we can take her out."

"Fine," Leia grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting—it's unnerving how much she actually looks like Killian when she does that—, "Can I at least have my clothes back? And my necklace?" Emma frowns a little as Leia reaches for her neck, where the silver necklace usually rests—there is something painfully familiar about the move and Emma hopes to God that Leia's necklace does not mean to Leia what Emma's swan necklace meant to her.

She doesn't realize she's reached for her own necklace until Leia speaks up again. "It's not like that," she says hesitantly, her eyes flitting between Emma and Killian. "It's…" she gestures to Killian and mumbles, "It's your necklace. When I was six, Mama—" Leia bites her lip and glances towards Emma before continuing, "—she gave me the necklace so I'd have something of yours. I put my wedding ring on it before I jumped into the portal that took me here."

"Oh."

Emma blanches, and it hits her, for the first time, what her parents must have gone through when they met her—and realized who she was. Leia isn't a little girl—she's a grown woman, married to the love of her life, according to Killian, who decided to come back and save the Savior's Happy Ending single-handedly.

God, it sucks.

She really needs to start being nicer to her parents.

"I'll retrieve your items, little love," Killian smiles good-naturedly, bustling out of the room, leaving the two women in an awkward silence.

Emma fidgets nervously, desperately trying to come up with something to talk about—and it's  _not fair_ , Killian's a natural at this, and she doesn't know  _how_  the hell he just accepted that they are going to have a baby in less than nine months and that they still have to hang out with the grown up version of said baby until this crisis is over—but she doesn't know what to say. "So…" Emma mumbles slowly, "Killian told me that you…" she hesitates and shakes herself, reminding herself to man up and own up to her shit.

Even if it's shit she hasn't even done yet (shit she hopefully won't be doing now that she knows).

"He told you about our  _strained_  relationship, didn't he?" Leia interrupts softly, the look on her face far too understanding and kind after what Killian told Emma she had done to their daughter.

Emma nods, sighing heavily and moving closer to the bed, reaching for Leia's hand carefully. "I am sorry that I treated you like that—I can barely believe that I would…" She breaks off again and shakes her head, "I just want you to know that, even if I pushed you away a lot—I loved you. The harder I push, the more I love. You should… You should know that."

Leia's answering smile is beautiful and it nearly breaks Emma's heart because if what Killian told her is true, she does not deserve this beautiful girl—she does not deserve such a wonderful daughter.

"I do know that," Leia smiles tightly, "Look… The woman that was my mother—she's not you. I  _know_  that. I  _understand_  that she was so heartbroken that she just… She just  _couldn't_  show me the kind of love she wanted to. But I  _know_  she loved me—I know that you  _will_."

Emma nearly bursts into tears when Leia moves their entwined hands to press against Emma's still-flat belly—she knows that her tiny little baby is growing in there (she tries very hard not to think about how weird it must be for Leia to know she's no more than a peanut-sized little lump in Emma's womb right about now) and that Leia's right.

She's going to love her baby with all that she has— _Killian_  already loves their baby with all that he has.

"I will," Emma vows to Leia, squeezing her daughters hand tightly, "And we  _will_  defeat this Snow Queen. We  _will_  make this town safe and we won't lose anyone else."

Leia chuckles a little and replies, "Well, with the entire Charming family present, how could we not?"

"Indeed," Killian laughs from the doorway—both Leia and Emma glare at him when he just laughs harder when they jump, surprised by his sudden reappearance—smiling at both his women before sauntering into the room and handing Leia a large bag with the clothes she had been wearing when the Curse hit her.

Emma watches with a soft smile as her daughter and her… Well…  _her_  pirate banter as he helps Leia untie the hospital gown and change back into her own clothes—she briefly considers offering to buy Leia some Storybrooke clothes (the girl is wearing white linen wrappings for underwear, for God's sake), but then realizes that even if she did, Leia wouldn't really need them when she returned home.

Her heart clenches at the look on both Killian's and Leia's faces when Leia puts on her necklace—identical to the one Killian still wears around his own neck—trying not to consider the possibilities (probabilities that scare the hell out of her) of their future.

Emma knows the witch will be coming for Killian next—it only makes sense.

If you want to take your enemy out, start with the ones they love—isolate them, make them feel alone and helpless, and suddenly, they won't be so much of a threat anymore.

And now that she knows, she will make damn sure that ice bitch doesn't get anywhere near her pirate.

She's broken from her reverie when her phone starts ringing—she excuses herself to Killian and Leia, who're both caught up in their conversation about sword fighting, of all things—and moves to the corridor to take the call from her mom.

"Hey," she leans back against the wall next to Leia's door, "What's up?"

Her mother starts talking rapidly, and won't stop talking and with every words she says, Emma pales further, nausea curling in her belly. "He did what?" She chokes, pressing her hand to her mouth to suppress the sudden urge to throw up in the nearest trash can, "We need to get them back."

Terror washes over her and her legs nearly give out from underneath her and  _God_ …

She can't breathe.

She tries to suppress the urge to throw all caution in the wind and run out of the hospital immediately and hangs up after promising her mother she and Killian and Anna—she almost slipped up and called her Leia, but her daughter had made her promise not to tell anyone about who she is just yet, afraid it might change something that doesn't need to be changed at all—would be at the station ASAP.

No one knows how they cured Leia yet either—since Killian giving her a True Love's Kiss does not make a lot of sense unless they'd know about Leia being their daughter—and unless someone asks, they're not planning on telling anyone just yet either.

And now this…

This threw a huge wrench in their plans and she's terrified and she just…

She doesn't know what to do.

"Emma?"

She looks up when Killian and Leia exit the room, both looking concerned—she can't blame them.

She expects she doesn't look all too well.

"Love," Killian moves towards her, taking her hand in his, the feel of his fingers against hers is somewhat comforting, but she still can't breathe, and she needs to, because she's not going to be any good to anyone if she can't breathe, if can't get her own body to comply and  _move_.

"Swan," he whispers, "What is it?"

"He," she chokes, surprised by how hoarse and weak her voice sounds, her fingers curling around his because she  _needs_  this, she  _needs_  him to hold her and to tell her it'll be okay, "He took Henry. George. He escaped and took Henry and Roland." She looks up into his crystalline blue eyes and whispers, "He took my son."


	9. Chapter Eight—Real Love—Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... Anyone still out there?
> 
> I do apologize for the immensely long wait on this chapter-I know I promised that the update would take only days when I last uploaded a chapter, but there was one scene that gave me huge issues, and I could not get it written.
> 
> I had a horrible case of writer's block and I couldn't finish the chapter.
> 
> I hope you guys will forgive me for that, and I hope you will continue to read my little story :) I will tell you that it has been planned out until the very end (in fact, the final scene has already been written) and I can tell you it won't be too much longer. I am aiming for around fifteen chapters (but we all know I got shit aim when it comes to chapters... I thought ATAS was going to be six chapters and look how that turned out ;)), so we do have quite a way to go, but I know where it is going now :D
> 
> I don't know when I'll have the next chapter up, but I am going to promise it won't be another three-month-wait.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me! I love you guys!
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thanks to DancingDoula and JustSmileBFF for beta'ing and putting up with my ridiculous antics when it comes to whining about plot bunnies and the benefits of a shirtless Killian Jones.
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .  
> PREVIOUSLY ON SANDS OF TIME:
> 
> IN THE PAST, WE SEE ROLAND AND LEIA DECIDING TO TAKE THEIR RELATIONSHIP FURTHER, AS HE ASKS HER TO BE HIS WIFE. LEIA SAYS YES, BUT IS PLAGUED BY GUILT FOR LEAVING HER BROTHER TO FEND FOR HIMSELF AS KING OF TWO UNSTABLE KINGDOMS. SHE CONFIDES IN ROLAND THAT SHE FEELS SHE SHOULD RETURN, THAT SHE WANTS TO RETURN, BUT THAT SHE ALSO DOES NOT WANT TO LOSE THE LIFE THEY SHARE.
> 
> ROLAND IS CONFLICTED AS WELL, BUT ASSURES LEIA THAT SHE HAS TIME TO MAKE A DECISION.
> 
> IN THE PRESENT:
> 
> WHILE LEIA FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THE CURSE THAT THE ICE QUEEN HIT HER WITH, EMMA FIGURES OUT THAT LEIA IS HER AND KILLIAN'S DAUGHTER WHO HAS COME BACK FROM THE FUTURE TO SAVE THEM. SHE PANICS AND ACCUSES KILLIAN OF CONSPIRING WITH LEIA TO GET HER PREGNANT SO SHE WOULD STAY WITH HIM.
> 
> KILLIAN LOSES HIS PATIENCE WITH HER AND YELLS AT HER ABOUT WHAT SHE IS CONSTANTLY DOING TO HIM AND WHAT SHE SUBCONCIOUSLY WOULD PUT LEIA THROUGH AFTER HIS DEATH. AFTER HE AND EMMA RECONCILE, HE RETURNS TO LEIA'S BEDSIDE AND ACCIDENTLY WAKES HER WITH TRUE LOVE'S KISS.
> 
> THEY DECIDE NOT TO TELL ANYONE THAT LEIA IS CURED AT FIRST, DECIDING THAT IT WILL GIVE THEM AN ADVANTAGE WHEN THE ICE QUEEN AND GEORGE TRY TO CONFRONT THEM NEXT. LEIA AND EMMA SHARE A HEARTFELT BUT PAINFUL MOMENT BEFORE EMMA IS INFORMED THAT GEORGE, WHO HAD BEEN IN THEIR CAPTIVITY, SOMEHOW ESCAPED AND KIDNAPPED HENRY AND ROLAND.
> 
> AND NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW!

**Chapter Eight—Real Love—Part II**

_Don't need to be alone  
No need to be alone_

_It's real love, it's real  
Yes it's real love_

_It's real._

_—Real Love, The Beatles_

**Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future**

There are times Henry absolutely  _loathes_  being King.

There are times that he loathes being the man that two kingdoms look up to for guidance, because it is a responsibility he'd never truly felt prepared for, despite his grandfather's extensive training and lessons.

There are times he loathes being a King because it makes him unable to spend as much time with his family as he would like to—especially now that Rosanna is once again with child. Sometimes he wishes he would be a normal man; he wishes he would have no responsibilities other than being with his family, watching his son grow up, watching his wife's belly swell with their second child.

He wishes he would have been born to a normal, non-royal family, so his grandparents and his dad and his mom and his step-dad and his other mom (and second step-dad) would all still be alive.

So his sister would've grown up the way he didn't—so she would've known her father.

But he is not.

 _They're not_.

He  _is_  King.

And he  _is_  responsible for the two kingdoms until the day Leia would be ready to take her place as Queen of the Charming Kingdom—since Graham is a year older, he had been offered to take the throne until Leia would turn twenty-one, but he'd turned it down, clearly stating he had no desire to actually be King.

Instead, Graham had chosen to take on a more diplomatic role, travelling across the realm as their Kingdom's ambassador—Henry secretly suspects that Graham enjoys the perks of being able to introduce himself as 'Prince Graham' to the ladies far more than he actually enjoys being Prince.

"Your Highness?"

Henry jumps a little when his knight's voice pulls him from his musings, shaking his head briefly to rid himself of these melancholic thoughts before he turns his attention to the man before him. "Yes, Sir Robert… What is it?"

There is a smile on the otherwise stoic knight's face, and it should have been a clue for him, but Henry is completely unprepared for the words the man speaks nonetheless. "Princess Leia has returned, Your Highness. She and Roland Hood are approaching the gates as we speak—it seems they have brought an army of their own as well."

Henry laughs, despite the slightly unsure tone in his knight's voice. "Of course she did," he chuckles, shaking his head as he moves to get up from his throne, "I better not keep her waiting. Please inform the kitchens that their Princess has returned and that I would like them to prepare her favourite meal."

Sir Robert nods respectfully and bows before leaving the throne room—Henry smiles and follows him quickly, nearly running outside in his hurry to get to the courtyard to see Leia and her men ride through the palace gates. (And they're all  _her_  men, he doesn't even need to know them or look at them to be certain, it's just the kind of influence she has on people).

It has been too long, he decides when he lays eyes upon his sister for the first time in over a year, offering his wife only a passing smile as she and his now four-year-old boy join him on the steps. Despite having been in written contact with her since the moment she and Roland had left the palace, it feels as though it has been centuries, and he has missed her, and he is in awe of the happiness in her eyes.

Happiness like he hasn't seen in a long time, even before their mother—he breaks that thought off and shakes his head, moving forward eagerly to hug her before she's even dismounted her horse.

"I've missed you," he whispers, smiling a little as she hugs him back, "I've missed you so much, Lee."

"I have missed you too," she replies quietly, a sad smile curling her lips as they pull back from the hug, and he doesn't miss the reassuring glance Roland gives her when he steps up beside her, "However, I didn't return just because… Because I missed you."

Henry frowns when Bae realizes his aunt is back and comes running towards them, screaming for attention until Leia has lifted him into her arms for a tight hug and he is left standing with Roland, who looks oddly like he's stuck between adoration and longing and petrifying fear at the sight of Leia with the toddler in her arms.

Henry chuckles and pats the younger man on the shoulder. "Yeah… That won't get any less scary," he smirks at Roland, who looks rather perturbed and confused, "Trust me. I've another one on the way and I'm just as terrified as I was the first time."

Roland gapes at him and before either man can say more, Leia returns to them, Bae happily curled up in her arms, his little arms wrapped around her neck and his head resting in the crook of his neck. Henry smiles and rubs his son's back happily before turning to his sister again.

"Why did you come back?" He asks slowly, "If not because you missed us?"

"I did miss you," she hastens to assure him—as though he'd ever doubted that—rocking his son a little in her arms before she whispers, "I came back because I need help. I have a plan… But I can't do it alone—and I need to know," she looks down, and she looks nervous—he hasn't seen her look this nervous since that one time when she'd broken one of the vases in the Hall Of Kings and she'd been afraid Emma would yell at her, "—I need to know if you approve."

He frowns in confusion when Roland shuffles and looks down uncomfortably. "What plan?" He questions slowly, eyeing his sister speculatively, "Should I be worried?"

Leia bites her lip and reaches up to scratch her ear—it feels oddly like he's watching Killian for a moment and it makes his heart squeeze painfully—before she squares her shoulders and looks him straight in the eye (just like their mother,  _damn it_ ).

"I know how to save our family—I know how to go back and give them the Happy Ending they all should've gotten."

.

.

.

**Sheriff's Station, Storybrooke, Maine—Present time**

His hand is shaking.

He is not quite keen on this waiting game, but it is all that he and the Charmings are able to do—they had been rather unsuccessful at containing Emma, Regina and Leia for longer than ten minutes. All the women had been focused on was getting Henry and Roland from the Snow Queen's clutches without delay.

It seemed that he and the Charmings caused what Emma and Regina considered delay.

Perhaps they were not wrong—after all, what good can a one-handed pirate and a royal couple with no magical powers whatsoever be in a fight against a magical Snow Queen who is, apparently, destined to kill many of them?

Young Queen Elsa seems to be somewhat sympathetic to their plight and has even abandoned her own quest to find her sister momentarily to help them track down his girls—he is far too nervous about Emma and Leia going up against the Snow Queen without him there.

They are  _his_  women, and  _his_  (hopefully) soon-to-be stepson and  _he should be out there_ , damn it.

"Have you found them yet, Elsa?" Lady Snow's all-too-eager voice snaps him from his thoughts and his attention is once again drawn towards the three royals, who stand bent over a map of the town, Elsa attempting to scry for an unusual source of magic, he supposes.

"No," Elsa shakes her head, her mouth set in a firm line, a frown creasing her forehead as she glares at the paper before her, "Anna has only taught me rudimentary spells so far—this spell, though not complicated, is not one I have had a chance to practice before. I cannot guarantee its success."

The young Queen looks frustrated by her own limitations, and Killian wishes he could find his voice to tell them  _exactly_  where they will be—but he cannot.

Leia must have known—she always knows, it seems—that he would follow them, put their lives before his own if it came down to it, and she was  _adamant_  to prevent such events from happening.

Bloody stubborn girl spelled him—he's unable to show someone, say, point to or do anything that would give away their location. He's also forbidden from following them himself, and he would be quite cross with Emma and Leia if he did not feel incredibly loved by their actions.

He knows—Leia is a good liar, but not  _that_  good—that the fight that will soon break out between them and the Snow Queen is the fight that cost him his life in Leia's reality. He realizes that, by binding him to the seat and sheriff's station, they are attempting to keep him  _alive_  and  _safe_ , but  _Gods,_ it is frustrating.

The shackles that keep him bound to his seat are no painful, invisible iron bands of torture. Instead, it feels as though he is wrapped in the softest, warmest of hugs…

And it is a kind of torture of its own.

He is not one for sitting still and allowing others to fight his battles—he supposes one could argue that it is not truly  _his_  battle to fight, but logic has never been his strong suit, and every part of him is fighting the spell his daughter placed upon him to keep him safe. All he wants is a chance to fight and protect  _his_  family.

He has gone far too long without one, and now that he has once again found one, he desires to fight for them with everything he has.

"Killian?"

He looks up when Snow approaches him with a cautious smile on her lips. "Can you move yet?"

He sighs heavily and shifts in his seat, tilting his head back to offer Emma's mother a terse smile. "I can move just fine, milady," he grumbles, "I simply cannot leave the Sheriff's Station until Emma and L—Anna have deemed it less precarious for me to leave this supposed safe haven, nor can I indulge your questions about their whereabouts." He realizes that heavy sarcasm is dripping from each word he speaks, and it is truly bad form to speak in such manner to a lady such as Queen Snow, but he cannot bring himself to care.

Fortunately, it seems she is far too preoccupied worrying for Emma's wellbeing—she barely even acknowledges his words before pacing back towards her princely husband and Elsa, peppering them with questions they cannot answer instead.

He feels unsteady and afraid and can barely breathe—but he knows that Emma and Leia are fine so far. Leia had done him one kindness, when she spelled him, and linked his mind to theirs, so he could at least follow what was happening.

He knows his daughter likely realized he'd drive himself mad with worry if they left without a way for him to know they were safe.

It is the oddest sensation, to see into their minds as they stalk through the forest, tracking down the duo of villains that was foolish enough to abduct the children of Storybrooke's biggest, most stubborn heroes—the ones that do not know how to quit.

He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, shutting out The Charmings' and Elsa's bickering as he focuses his attention on the feelings Emma is subconsciously sending him.

He knows his love and his daughter are safe so far.

That is what he chooses to focus on.

It's the only thing he has right now.

.

.

.

**Abandoned Manor on the outskirts of western woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

The manor before them stands tall and stately, and at another time, Emma might have taken the time to appreciate its beautiful decay—there's no rhyme or logic to it, she just enjoys watching old, abandoned houses being taken over by nature—, but worry for her son, for her beautiful, strong boy, is prevailing in her mind and all she sees is red.

How  _dare_  that Icy Bitch put her filthy paws on  _her_  son?

Emma is well aware that both her parents and Killian are going to tan their hides when they return—they never did enjoy being kept away from a fight for their family—but she still believes that she, Leia and Regina can take on the Queen and George on alone, without the added distractions of their loved ones being there.

She can feel her magic humming beneath her skin, her fingertips tingling with the delirious desire to unleash hell upon the couple that had the nerve to try to break up their family.

She can sense Leia and Regina's magic humming too, much like her own, and it only adds to the almost maddening desire to  _use_  her power so she would be invincible, so no one would ever be able to threaten them and make it stick ever again.

She realizes that she  _can't_ —the darker side of her magic feels too tempting as it is—but she wishes that she could.

"Perhaps we should have asked Elsa to come as well," Leia breathes quietly, snapping Emma from her magic-induced delirium, "she has a more intimate knowledge of ice and snow magic than we do—I have only  _seen_  this kind of magic and read about it, but I am unable to actually cast it."

Emma nearly growled in derision before she realized that Leia did indeed have a point.

None of them know much about the kind of magic the Ice Queen wields, and Elsa would have made a good ally had they been patient enough to take the time to convince the young Queen to join them.

They hadn't been patient though, and had barely taken the time to pick up Regina before Leia had used a particularly complicated spell that tracked Henry to the farm house—Regina had vaguely explained that it had something to do with blood magic and that they were lucky to have a sorceress as powerful as Leia in the family.

The former Evil Queen had let Leia and Emma stutter and stammer in half-hearted denial for a full minute before revealing she had already figured out who Leia was before Killian even knew.

Emma is still a little upset that the Evil Queen had realized Leia is—was—would be?—her daughter before  _she_  knew, but Leia had managed to calm her down and remind her that there would be time to ponder and brood later,  _after_  they had dealt with the Ice Queen and George and had Roland and Henry back.

And now, here they are, standing before the old, dilapidated manor in which George and the Ice Queen seem to have been hiding all along.

Emma can  _feel_  the cold radiating from the building and she  _knows_  Henry and little Roland are in there,

"How do we do this?" She whispers at the other two women—she's slightly unnerved by the positively  _feral_  look in Regina's eyes, but then she recalls her own feelings earlier, and she realizes that Regina is quite possibly having a harder time suppressing her dark magic than she and Leia are—while eyeing the manor, looking for less obvious points of entry.

She doesn't want the Queen and George to expect them.

"I prefer dramatic entrances," Regina drawls sarcastically, "it usually stuns everyone for a moment, and a moment is all we need to get the upper hand."

Emma opens her mouth to protest, but Leia cuts in before she can, a thoughtful frown rippling across her daughter's forehead. "I think I shouldn't go in when you two do," Leia says slowly, holding up her hands in surrender when Regina turns to glare at her, "they don't know I'm alive. For all they know, I am still under the Curse and you have lost your biggest ally—I have no doubt that's why they tried to take me out. They don't know me, and they have no idea what I am capable of."

Emma has to admit Leia has a good point—it had been their original plan anyway, before George had kidnapped Henry and Roland.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Regina nods approvingly, "If we allow them to believe Emma and I are alone at first,  _Anna_  can sneak in and get the boys out before joining us to take care of those two pathetic villains."

The three women exchange a few glances before nodding.

"It's Leia, by the way," Leia remarks, smiling when Regina frowns confusedly, "my name. It's Leia."

Regina accepts the statement with a small nod before grabbing Emma's hand. "Ready, Swan?"

Emma nods shakily, exchanging a swift smile with her daughter before turning back to Regina, her heart pounding in her ears as she replies, "Let's go get our son back." And with a swirl of purple smoke, they are suddenly standing in the manor, in the middle of what was once an ornate and beautifully decorated room, directly in front of a wide-eyed George and a somewhat amused-looking Ice Queen.

Emma barely manages to silence the cry of relief that desperately wants to fall from her lips as she spots Henry and Roland huddled together in a corner, their wrists bound with icy manacles. "Mom," Henry exclaims, his eyes sparkling happily—only her son could look so damn happy and delighted while still being in danger from a pair of psychotic royals.

"I should have known," George sighs, shaking his head pompously, "you hero types are so predictable—though I expected more of you. It seems all the power has gone to your head and you forget that we have the advantage here."

"Now, now," the Ice Queen speaks quietly, and Emma shivers, "Let's not be too harsh. I am certain the Savior and the Evil Queen have a plan, don't you, ladies?" Her voice is soft and high, but it carries an icy cold undertone that makes the hairs on the back of Emma's neck stand on end—eyeing the Ice Queen nervously; she knows Leia had assured her that they could defeat her, but seeing her,  _feeling_  the immense amount of  _power_  in the air, makes her horribly nervous and unsure and she can't remember how powerful she felt before.

"I don't need a plan," Regina sneers angrily, "I just need to set your icy ass on fire and get my boys out of here."

Instead of cringing, like Emma had done many a time when Regina threatened her, the Ice Queen laughs, a high-pitched, terrifying laugh that makes Emma feel even more nauseous than she already is, and giggles, "Oh dear. You are not  _capable_  of defeating me—much less of setting 'my icy ass', as you so charmingly put it, on fire."

"That's okay." The Ice Queen and George whirl around to stare at Leia, who's seemingly appeared out of nowhere, in disbelief. Leia smirks—and Emma swears she sees Killian's cheeky grin in her expression—and eyes the Ice Queen cockily. "That's why  _I_ 'm here. I'll have  _no_  trouble lighting your ass on fire."

Emma is a little startled when she sees a flash of fear in the Ice Queen's eyes before she stiffens and sends a bolt of icy magic towards both her and Leia, and all hell breaks loose.

Leia throws up a shield around both of them faster than Emma can blink and then a blinding flash of light erupts from Leia's hands, tossing the Ice Queen across the room, where she slumps against the wall for a moment, her eyes wild and afraid—Emma's heart is pounding and she's staring at her daughter (because  _holy shit_ , she knows Leia is powerful, but she keeps forgetting just  _how_  powerful).

There's a split-second of tense silence…

And then a terrified cry breaks upon her ear—unlocking a sense of fear in her she did not even know existed. She spins around immediately, her eyes locking on a sight that terrifies and enrages her far more than anything ever has before.

Henry is no longer in huddled in the corner with Roland, but in the middle of the room, his brown eyes wide and terrified—George has grabbed him by his hair (her vision tints red and she wants to rush across the room and  _rip_  the man to pieces for daring to touch her boy) and has a knife pressed to his throat, pressing hard into the sensitive skin of Henry's neck.

"Henry!"

She's startled when she realizes she is not alone—Regina and Leia have joined her and she can feel their magic vibrate in the air, their rage towards the delusional king all channelled into their magic.

"Let him go, George," Leia hisses angrily—but Emma barely hears her.

Her eyes are locked on Henry's, and she cringes at the pure and undiluted fear in his beautiful brown eyes (so much like Neal's that it hurts sometimes)—and then she no longer feels any sort of conscious thought as her magic bursts forward from her palms, ripping George from her son's body, throwing him back against the wall with a resounding thud as the knife clatters to the floor.

She wants to run forward and close Henry in her arms, protect him from all the evil in the world, but is forced to redirect her attention from her son to George, who has slowly gotten back to his feet, his face twisted into an angry sneer, a thin line of blood running down his forehead.

"You are  _filth_ ," he raves, waving his arms in the air angrily, "The throne should be  _mine_ , it  _always_  should have been  _mine_!" Emma and Regina are both caught off-guard when he rushes forward, the knife no longer abandoned on the floor but clenched in his fist, pointing directly at Henry.

And then there's too much happening at the same time and Emma barely has the time to blink before George is once again laying crumpled on the dust-covered floor, the knife abandoned next to him, blood streaming from his nose and ears as he clutches at his head.

Emma stares at him, horrified by how fascinated she is—she doesn't need to look to know that Leia is doing this, and much as she wants to stop her daughter, she  _can't_ , because he tried to  _hurt_  Henry.

He tried to take her family from her, and had Leia not come back, he would have succeeded.

She watches, feeling oddly detached, as Leia steps into her line of sight, her eyes startlingly  _green_  and her hands aglow with deep dark red magic.

"Goodbye, George," Leia spits as George twitches one last time before his body goes limp and his eyes roll back in his head.

He's gone.

Just like that.

The situation does nothing but baffle Emma—but a loud, wailing sob distracts her from her thoughts, and she turns just in time to find the Ice Queen back on her feet, her eyes wild and feral as she clutches little Roland in her arms.

" 'Gina," Roland cries, tugging on the Ice Queen's arm as he cries, his eyes wide and pleading, "Help!"

"Roland!" Regina and Leia cry at the same time, Regina rushing forward from where she had been kneeling next to Henry, and Leia wobbling unsteadily, but raising her hands to use her magic on the Ice Queen once more.

"Get your icy paws off of him, you bitch," Regina hisses, hesitating only when her hands and feet are suddenly encased in ice, locking her to the floor.

"Ah, ah, ah," the Ice Queen singsongs, and Emma feels nauseous when she realizes she, too, is frozen in place—Leia looks in no shape to fight back, pale and wobbling on her feet even as they freeze to the floor—, "I'll have to punish you for this," the Ice Queen sneers, "Keep that boy. I'll have my fun with this one."

And then, before any of them can do so much as blink, she disappears, Roland in her arms, in a flurry of ice and snow.

The door flies open the moment she disappears and Killian followed by her parents and Elsa storm in, all of them armed to the teeth, their eyes searching the room frantically until they land on her and Henry, and then she's suddenly enveloped in her parents arms, and Killian is helping Leia to her feet as Regina hugs the life out of Henry.

"Oh God," Snow chokes a moment later, drawing everyone's attention to her as she examines George's body, "What happened?"

"He tried to kill Henry," Emma replies before Leia can even open her mouth—she's looking pale and nauseous and it makes her heart hurt to see the pain and fear in her daughters eyes—, barely glancing towards the others, "We did what we had to."

Snow looks aghast and exclaims, "Murder is  _never_  the right thing to do, Emma! You'll only darken your heart and become evil!"

"Leia!" Killian cries out desperately, and Emma whirls around just in time to catch a glimpse of her daughter's disgusted and distressed expression before she disappears in a cloud of white smoke, leaving them all staring at the space she had occupied.

"That was uncalled for," Killian nearly growls at Snow, "She  _protected_  us—you do not get to throw that back in her face."

Before Snow can reply, Henry jumps in and says, "She saved my life. George was going to kill everyone—he talked about it the whole time. He was obsessed." Emma  _hates_  the look in his eye—the look of a child forced to grow up too fast—and wraps her arms around him, as though she can shield him from everything bad in the world as long as she holds him.

Slowly, she looks up at Killian and says, "You should go find her. Make sure she's okay."

She wants to go herself, wants to wrap Leia in her arms like she's holding Henry and make sure that she's okay, but she  _can't_ , she can't bear the idea of letting Henry out of her sight.

Not yet.

And she'll be needed to start the search for Roland.

"Actually," Killian replies quietly, moving to stand beside her, his hand resting on her lower back, "I believe she might need her mother more than her father. You should go, love. Elsa and Regina will keep searching for young Roland and I will keep your boy safe until you return. I swear, no harm will come to him."

"Wait," Henry interrupts, looking between them, "She's my sister? Really?"

Emma and Killian exchange a panicked glance before Henry jumps up and down excitedly and exclaims, "That is  _so_  cool! Yeah, mom, it's totally okay, go find her and bring her back. I have  _so many_ questions!"

Emma chuckles a little, despite the direness of the situation—only Henry would get this excited about having a sibling from the future—and concedes. "Okay," she sighs, smiling a little when Regina gives her an encouraging nod, "I'll go find her."

.

.

.

**The Beach, Storybrooke, Maine—Present Time**

It is not terribly surprising that she finds Leia near the ocean—she is her father's daughter, after all, and it seems the sea is in her blood as much as it is in Killian's—but Emma  _is_  surprised to find Leia in the little alcove just off the shores of Storybrooke Bay. It is a beautiful place, well-hidden and known by few, and it surprises Emma that her daughter had found it after only a few days in Storybrooke.

Leia is curled up on a small bench—that she has conjured herself, undoubtedly—at the entrance of the alcove, arms wrapped around herself as she stares ahead, her eyes glued to the rolling waves that are crashing onto the beach at regular intervals.

Emma's heart feels heavy and burdened at the sight of her daughter—her  _brave_ ,  _strong_  daughter—hunched over, curled in upon herself, as though she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. It is something she would  _never_  want for her child, and to know that her daughter—the tiny little bean that has barely started growing in her belly at this point—could suffer  _so much_  in the future because of  _Emma's_  failure is nearly enough to shatter her confidence in such a way she might as well give herself up to the Snow Queen now.

But it's not.

As much as Emma would like to surrender sometimes, when she sees her family  _hurt_ , when she sees how the constant struggle exhausts them all, it also makes her want to  _fight_.

They have deserved a Happy Ending—they have  _all_  fought and suffered for a simple chance at having it—and Emma is going to fight to her last breath to make sure they all get to have it—including Killian and her (and by extent, Leia and her still unknown husband).

At last, she shakes off her despondent thoughts and moves towards the bench, taking care to make enough noise so Leia will know someone is approaching her.

"I should have known," Leia states in a soft, brittle voice, "one of you was bound to find me."

Emma offers no more than a humourless smile as she settles onto the bench next to Leia, softly replying, "You should have—it's what we do. We find each other."

Leia doesn't really acknowledge Emma's words, continuing to gaze at the waves. In fact, she does not even look at Emma—but when Emma's seated, she does draw closer and leans her head against Emma's shoulder, a clear non-verbal plea for comfort.

One that Emma could never deny her.

She slides her arms around Leia and redirects her own gaze to the greyish-blue waves, allowing herself to enjoy the peaceful silence that surrounds them—she's had too few moments like these in the past couple of weeks, and despite the direness of their plight (the Snow Queen is still out there, and she still has Roland, and God knows what she's doing to him) she appreciates that she gets to share this moment with Leia.

She does wish it could have happened under better circumstances, though.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She inquires softly, rubbing one hand over Leia's back in a—hopefully—soothing gesture. It is, after all, the real reason she came after Leia once she had assured herself that Henry was unharmed other than the small, shallow cut on his throat.

She doesn't blame Leia in any way for what had happened—none of them do, not really. Her parents may be a little shocked and unhappy about the act of murder itself, but they don't blame Leia—at least, they better not. They all knew the moment George held a knife to Henry's throat and spilled blood that the man would lose his life.

The question had only been who would get to him first—Leia had been fastest, and before anyone could question or stop her, George had bled out on the dust-covered floor while Leia's magic lingered heavily in the air.

Leia doesn't answer, only shrugs, but Emma can sense the presence of Leia's magic—that had never really abated—grow stronger, and she's willing to bet anything that if she looks, Leia's eyes will be glowing emerald. "Was it the first time?" Emma mutters quietly, recalling Killian's earlier suspicion, "that you took a life?"

It's not that Emma cares so much about the act itself—she likes to think she knows her daughter well enough to know that if she  _had_ , in fact, killed before, it would have been for a very good reason. No, Emma is more concerned to know that Leia will be able to handle the inevitable guilt that comes with taking a life, whether in self-defence or defence of a loved one, or not.

"No," Leia replies dejectedly, before snorting humourlessly, "It's not even the first time I killed him—with my luck, probably not the last either."

The cavalier, matter-of-fact tone with which she says it  _breaks_  Emma's heart, because it is too similar to what she herself had sounded like (' _Everyone leaves'_ ) before she had Storybrooke and magic and villains and heroes, before Henry, before her parents, before  _Killian_.

Before she realized that not everyone was going to leave.

The feeling in her chest is arduous, like an open wound that has not yet healed and she can't hold back the pained whimper that falls from her lips. "Oh, Leia," she breathes when Leia breaks into sobs, curling into her, clinging to Emma for comfort.

Not for the first time today, Emma finds herself cursing King George to the deepest depths of hell, wishing the man nothing but pain in his afterlife for causing Leia this kind of pain.

If the man were not already dead, she'd set out to kill him as soon as she's done comforting Leia—or she'd let Killian have fun with him (she's pretty sure Killian would skin the man alive for hurting their daughter and Henry and even adorable little Roland).

"What happened?" She asks in a soft, hushed whisper, "When you killed him? The first time." She winces a little at her own insensitivity, but Leia just sniffles and snuggles a little deeper into her arms before whispering, "I lost control. George surprised us—he had people on the inside, and we didn't see him coming. Grandpa was gone before I even realized it had happened…"

She breaks off and Emma chokes back her own tears—dear God,  _how_ ,  _how_ did this happen to Leia—to their family?

What had they ever done to deserve a fate that harsh and painful?

"Oh, Leia," Emma murmurs softly, wrapping her arms around Leia a little tighter—she doesn't say anything else. She knows there's nothing she can say that will make the pain go away, that there's not a damn thing she can  _do_  to comfort her daughter other than hold her and let her cry.

"He stabbed you," Leia sobs, "I tried to heal you, but the blade was rubbed in poison and you—I  _tried_  but I—I just lost it." She dissolves into tears again, and Emma feels nauseous as she imagines how Leia must have felt. She doesn't want to imagine—she remembers all too well how  _destroyed_  she had felt when she had thought Snow had died back in the Enchanted Forest.

She doesn't want to think about dying either.

"It's going to be okay, you know?" Emma says softly, rubbing her hand over Leia's back, "We'll get him back—she's alone now. She doesn't have any other allies in Storybrooke; we'll find her and get Roland back. And we're all going to be fine."

God, she  _needs_  to believe in those words as much as Leia does.

She needs to believe that they'll find Roland and get them back before that icy bitch can lay so much as a finger on him.

She needs to get him back, because she's not sure who he is to Leia in the future, but based on the way Leia had reacted when the Snow Queen managed to take Roland in the chaos that had ensued after George had been killed, he's important to her, and that means he's important to her and Killian too.

And he's an adorable little boy and Robin does  _not_  deserve to lose his son.

No one deserves that, and Emma's going to make sure it doesn't happen.

.......

Leia closes her eyes, unable to stop the silent tears from sliding down her cheeks, but having Emma, having  _her mother_  there for her, holding her,  _comforting_ her as she had wished for the first time she killed George—it is too odd to think about killing the same man twice, and when she tries, it gives her the most horrible headache—is helping, more than she had ever imagined it would.

She knows Emma understands.

She knows that Emma  _knows_  what it feels like to be tempted to the darker side of your magic, even if she's never given into it—their magic may be born from light and purity and love, but there cannot be light without some darkness.

And even the purest love contains a measureable amount of darkness in it.

It is simply human nature.

She opens her mouth to ask Emma if they should be heading back, to start the search, to find her future True Love—he's as adorable as a child as he is as her husband—when white hot pain sears through her veins and she cries out, doubling over in pain. "Shit!" She curses, stumbling, grabbing hold of the bench, the dark wood crumbling underneath the pressure of her magic, seeping from her fingertips without her consent.

"Leia!"

She can feel Emma's hands on her shoulders, but she can't  _breathe_ , she can't get her body to respond and it  _hurts_. Slowly, the waves of pain subsides, and she can breathe once again, though her thoughts are murky, tangled and confused.

Something deep inside her chest is throbbing painfully, and with every beat of her heart, another jolt of pain seems to burn its way through her veins, and she  _can't breathe_. She looks up at Emma, who is staring at her, her eyes filled with thinly veiled panic, and chokes, "Something's wrong."


	10. Chapter Nine—With A Little Help From My Friends—Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears. I do apologize for the long wait—I had to deal with some serious health issues in the past few weeks, and I have not had the chance to write overly much inbetween. I hope you guys understand that.
> 
> That being said, I would like to point out to the rude reviewers and PM'ers that stalked me that I do have a life. It does not solely consist of writing fanfiction. I do not do this so 'you can stay interested with regular updates'. I love it when you guys leave me messages and reviews, and I appreciate every single one of you—but I need to make it clear that I am writing this for me.
> 
> I write because it makes me happy.
> 
> I love it when it makes others happy as well, but it is not a priorty in my life.
> 
> I work, I'm in college and I was seriously ill for the past couple of months. Fanfiction didn't have a place in my life then, and I hope everyone understands that.
> 
> Now, enough unpleasantness, and on to the story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter—it is more of a filler than it was initially intended to be, but it was getting far too long, so I had to break it in two. I promise, more plot in the next chapter! Since it's my birthday tomorrow, I probably won't get too much time to finish the next chapter just yet, but I will get it out ASAP.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me! I love you guys!
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thanks to DancingDoula and JustSmileBFF for beta'ing and putting up with my ridiculous antics when it comes to whining about plot bunnies and the benefits of a shirtless Killian Jones.
> 
> PPS Please tell me I wasn't the only one laughing and crying and shouting and giggling during the season finale? :D
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .  
> PREVIOUSLY ON SANDS OF TIME:
> 
> IN THE PAST, WE SEE HENRY STRUGGLING WITH HIS DUTIES AS KING OF TWO KINGDOMS, AND CONTEMPLATE HOW BEING ROYAL HAS COST SO MUCH OF HIS FAMILY ALREADY—WE SEE HIM FEAR THAT HE MIGHT NOT GET TO SPEND ENOUGH TIME WITH HIS SON, AND WORRY ABOUT HIS WIFE, NOW THAT SHE IS WITH CHILD AGAIN. HIS MUSINGS ARE INTERRUPTED BY LEIA'S RETURN TO THE CASTLE. HE IS OVERJOYED TO HAVE HER BACK AT FIRST, BUT GROWS A LITTLE WEARY WHEN SHE TELLS HIM SHE NEEDS HIS HELP AND APPROVAL OF A DANGEROUS PLAN SHE HAS CONCOCTED.
> 
> IN THE PRESENT:
> 
> EMMA, REGINA AND LEIA INTENTIONALLY LEAVE THE OTHERS AT THE SHERIFF'S STATION WHILE THEY HUNT DOWN GEORGE AND THE ICE QUEEN, PLANNING A SURPRISE ATTACK SO THEY CAN GET THE BOYS OUT. THE ATTACK HAS ITS DESIRED EFFECT AT FIRST, AND THEY MANAGE TO TEMPORARILY SUBDUE THE ICE QUEEN—UNFORTUNATELY, GEORGE GETS A HOLD OF HENRY AND THREATENS TO SLIT HIS THROAT. THAT IS THE MOMENT LEIA LOSES HER TEMPER AND KILLS HIM WITH HER MAGIC. EVERYONE IS SO SHOCKED THAT SHE ACTUALLY KILLED HIM, THEY FAIL TO SEE THAT THE ICE QUEEN IS ALREADY AWAKE AGAIN, AND THAT SHE HAS GRABBED ROLAND AS A HOSTAGE WHILE SHE ESCAPES.
> 
> MOMENTS AFTER THE ICE QUEEN DISAPPEARS, THE REST OF OUR FAVORITE HEROES APPEAR, AND LEIA FLEES THE SCENE WHEN SHE IS OVERCOME BY GRIEF AND DISGUST FOR HER OWN ACTIONS. KILLIAN CONVINCES EMMA TO FOLLOW HER, WHICH EMMA DOES—SHE AND LEIA HAVE A MEANINGFUL CONVERSATION THAT IS SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED BY LEIA CRUMPLING IN INEXPLICABLE PAIN.
> 
> AND NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW!

**Chapter Nine** **—With A Little Help From My Friends** **—Part I**

_What do I do when my love is away?  
How do I feel by the end of the day?_

_No, I get by with a little help from my friends_  
I get high with a little help from my friends  
Going to try with a little help from my friends

 _(Do you need anybody?)_  
I need somebody to love  
(Could it be anybody?)  
I want somebody to love

_—A Little Help From My Friends, The Beatles_

**Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future**

Anyone can feel the tension lingering in the air—it feels thick, difficult to breathe. Henry's voice is loud and incredulous in Leia's ears, and she's afraid to look up at him. She might be an adult, but he is still her older brother and she trusts his judgement (sometimes more than she trusts her own).

"Leia," he says sternly, complying her to look up at him, "this is  _dangerous_. Time travel is prohibited by all magic users for a reason. When Mom and Killian accidentally fell through Zelena's time portal, they nearly destroyed the entire future! It's far too precarious!"

He continues, but her thoughts wander, like they usually do—Leia's never been good at keeping her mind focused on one thing for too long, even her brother's compelling, strong voice. She understands her brother's concerns—there's not a single one of them that she hasn't considered herself—but she  _believes_  she can change their fate, and it aggravates her that he cannot have  _faith_  in her.

He is supposedly the Truest Believer, and Leia feels a little hurt that his faith seems to falter when it comes to her abilities to bring back everyone's Happy Ending.

And not only does he doubt her ability to succeed, he seems to question everything even remotely connected to it—from her grief over her mother's and grandfather's deaths to  _why_  she feels she needs anything else in her life.

She has everything.

And perhaps, on some level, she does.

She's the future Queen—she has gold and jewellery and a seemingly endless supply of material wealth. She even has love in her life—she has Roland and her brother and uncle and Ruby—but there has always been something she has missed.

And though she knows that Roland and her brother and Ruby love her as much as she loves them, it never quite seems to fill the void in her heart.

She's been told before that you can't miss what you don't know—that she can't  _miss_  her father's love because she hasn't known it… But the matter at hand was that she  _does_  know, and that she  _does_ miss it.

And she knows exactly what kind of love she is missing out on.

She wants a parent that would never feel that showing her love and compassion in public was inappropriate—she wants a parent that is  _happy_  and  _free_  and not burdened by so much grief she can barely keep herself alive.

She wants a family that doesn't feel broken beyond repair.

She needs someone she can feel free with—someone that would laugh with her and play with her and that would never make her feel as though she is acting too childish.

And that's  _why_ she truly wants to do this—not simply because she  _can_ , or because it is the right thing to do, but because she  _knows_  they all need this. It feels like the only way they can obtain that which she knows Henry desires most too—a Happy Ending for  _everyone_  they loves.

For her mother and father, her grandparents and Graham, Regina and Robin and  _Roland…_

She  _knows_  she can fix it.

She has the ability to grant a Happy Ending to every single person she loves—what possible reason could be good enough not to do it then?

Slowly, her thoughts guide themselves back to the conversation at hand, and she realizes that pondering and brooding over her situation will do her no good if she doesn't know the options that are handed to her.

It is not simply Henry that needs to agree to the plan—she needs the Blue Fairy's acceptance as well, and she is well aware that it will be far more difficult to convince that woman to break the number one rule of magic.

Henry has moved to kneel before her now, both of his hands grasping hers—she can read the desperation and fear in his eyes, but she also sees the smallest spark of hope in there, and it's that little spark that feeds her determination.

She is not the only one that wishes to see their family whole once again.

"Leia, please,'' he begins, "reconsider. This entire venture is ludicrous—you could get killed! I cannot bear to lose you as well, Lee." Leia's throat feels oddly restricted at the honesty behind his words.

She has never seen her brother like this before—he'd never begged, never spoken of his own feelings so directly, and though she'd wished for it to happen someday, the directness and the raw tenderness in her older brother's voice still surprises her.

"I don't have another choice, Henry," Leia replies quietly, vaguely wondering what he would do with the information, "I  _need_ them— _you_  need them. They fought for years and years to get their Happy Ending, and then it was taken away from  _all_  of them because of one man's greed. I  _know_  I can do this, Henry. I don't know how to have my own Happy Ending without them."

She can feel Roland stiffen next to her and sighs—she is aware that it hurts him to know that he alone is not enough for their Happy Ending, but she knows he understands too. More than anyone, Roland understands what it was like growing up with a parent who was only half there.

Henry's soft sigh and the warmth of Roland's hand on her arm snap her from my thoughts. "I understand," Henry mutters quietly, "and I do wish we could save mom and the others from their fate, but Leia… The spell is practically impossible to achieve. Trying to cast the spell alone might kill you. Is it worth that risk?"

She looks up, tears burning in her eyes as she meets Henry's intense gaze with her own. "I have to try. I owe them that—I owe  _myself_  that."

Henry's expression does not change, and Leia feels the gravity of the moment weigh down on her. Whatever Henry decides today, would decide the course of their future—and their past.

And that thought has a terrifyingly strong hold on her.

After a brief, yet not entirely uncomfortable silence—that lasted far too long to Leia's taste—Henry speaks, carefully choosing and weighing his words before they roll from his lips, entrancing Leia with his deep, rasping voice, and not for the first time, she understands how her brother became such a strong, powerful and loved King so quickly.

When he speaks, one can't  _stop_  listening.

"It will be a dangerous undertaking, Leia. One that has to be planned and prepared before you can even begin to attempt it—you need to be sure before we do this."

"I am," Leia interrupts, getting to her feet and facing her brother determinedly, "I've been thinking about this for years, Henry. I know it's dangerous, but I also know I can do it. It's my turn to save the Happy Endings."

A smile flashes across Henry's grim features before he turns serious again. "You are going to be the death of me one day, little sister. To think I thought you were only here to ask for my blessing for your marriage."

At those words, they can hear Roland choking, and her own cheeks flame bright red. "Well," she drawls, biting her lip coyly as she looks up at her big brother, "About that…"

.

.

.

**The Charming's Loft, Storybrooke—present time**

Emma tightens her arm around Leia's waist as she helps her daughter up the steps that lead to the loft. It had taken ages to get Leia from the little alcove on the beach to her car, and even longer to drive back into town because Leia kept slipping, losing control of her magic as she tried to take as much pain from little Roland as she could.

Emma's sure that the Sheriff's Station will be flooded with calls about fallen trees, blown electricity stops and small trashcan fires.

She's still not quite sure  _how_  Leia knows that Roland is being hurt, but she'd put her own curiosity aside in favour of getting Leia back to the loft and making sure they'd get to Roland as fast as they could.

"Come on, Leia," she pants, wincing when Leia moans in pain again, "just a little farther."

"I know," Leia groans, taking a few more steps forward, her breath laboured and heavy, "I know—I just.. I need to find him."

Emma swallows thickly, once again suppressing the urge to demand answers from Leia—she now knows Leia could feel her feelings when she was trapped in the ice because she'd been pregnant already; everything that happened to baby Leia happened to grown up Leia as well. But this… Emma doesn't have to ask Leia to know that whatever connects her to Roland is different.

It's like nothing she's ever seen before.

"We will," Emma finally responds firmly, "We will find him. And the Ice Queen isn't going to hurt anyone anymore." She desperately wants to believe her own words, but the ruthlessness of the Ice Queen is starting to terrify her—the woman is torturing an innocent child, for God's sake.

Granted, she knows Roland probably doesn't feel a thing—Leia is channelling all of her magic into making sure that the only one who'll feel anything is her—but the idea that the woman is willing to hurt a child to get what she wants (whatever the hell that may be) chills her to the bone.

She doesn't want think about what the woman might have done to Henry had they not been able to get him out when they did.

She feels nauseous and guilty when she remembers letting the Ice Queen slip through her fingers with Roland—the first thing they should have done, before engaging in a fight, was getting the boys out and to safety, and they hadn't, and now little Roland was being hurt—by extension, Leia was being hurt.

She focuses when they finally manage to reach the landing and forces the door to the loft open with her magic, so she won't have to let go of Leia, and is a little startled by the sheer amount of people in there—not only are her parents, Regina, Killian and Henry there, but also what looks like most of the Merry Men, Robin and Marian.

Everyone falls silent for a split-second when she drags her daughter inside before Killian is suddenly by her side, gathering Leia up in his arms with the most endearing, sweet, concerned look on his face as he carries her to the couch, quietly asking her a thousand and one questions while Leia just moans quietly and shakes her head.

"Are you okay, Emma?"

Emma sighs and offers her mother a tired smile. "Not really. Leia thinks the Ice Queen is trying to hurt Roland—she's been able to shield him from the pain so far, but I'm not sure how much longer she can keep doing it."

Snow frowns, eyeing Leia speculatively—and Emma's well aware that she nearly spilled the beans on who Leia is again—before turning to Emma again. "Do you think…" She breaks off and shakes her head, "Do you think she knows him? In the future?"

Emma opens her mouth to deny, to tell Snow that there is absolutely no reason to suspect any sort of future relation between Leia and Roland, but the words die in her throat when she catches sight of her daughter once again, writhing in pain on the couch while Killian holds her hand and the Merry Men, David and Henry look on worriedly.

She remembers Leia's insistence on keeping her future husband's name a secret because Leia was afraid that she and Killian might subconsciously try to push them together. Leia had made Emma promise that if she ever did find out who he is, she would let Leia find her way to him on her own time.

And why would she insist upon that unless they already know the boy?

The realization that little Roland Hood is going to grow up to be her baby girl's True Love is more than a little mindboggling, and Emma feels a little sick to her stomach when she realizes that Leia is feeling Roland's pain because their True Love's bond is so strong it can span across time and space.

"Yeah," Emma breathes, still feeling a little stunned at the revelation about who Roland is to her daughter, "I think she does know him. That's probably why she's in pain—she's been shielding him all along, and I don't think she even knows she was doing it."

Snow nods, a thoughtful frown rippling her forehead. "Do you think we should tell Robin and Marian? They are his parents. Maybe they should know."

"No," Emma shakes her head, "No, they shouldn't. This isn't anyone's business but Leia and Roland's. As long as she's protecting him, it doesn't matter who she is to him in the future."

Snow looks sceptical, but Emma doesn't really care.

She knows she's right.

She swallows thickly when Leia cries out in surprise and pain, her eyes widening when a long, thin cut appears on her upper arm, immediately drenching her entire sleeve with blood.

"Bloody hell," Killian curses, immediately reaching to grab Leia's arm, his eyes wide and fearful, "Little love, you'll be no use to the lad if the Ice Queen manages to kill you without even touching you." Emma sinks to her knees next to them, her hands shaking as she tries to cover the wound with a bandage she'd managed to conjure, trying not to be sick at the sight and smell of blood.

"I don't care," Leia gasps, her jaw clenched and her hand balled into a tight fist, "I'm not letting him feel what she's trying to do to him."

"Wait," Robin interrupts, stepping forward, his eyes locked on Leia, "She's hurting him?" He looks positively aghast at the mere thought and Emma can't blame him—she still feels nauseous in a way she knows has nothing to do with her pregnancy.

"She's trying," Leia pants, looking up at Robin pensively, "He doesn't feel anything, I promise. I won't let her hurt him."

And in that moment, Emma swears she sees something click in Robin's eyes—a kind of understanding and realization, not unlike the one she herself experienced only minutes before—before he nods, reaching out to squeeze Leia's hand. "Thank you," he offers sincerely, "Thank you so much for protecting my boy."

Before Leia can respond in any way, Marian steps up beside her husband, her face twisted with grief and worry that Emma can understand all too well—it is a kind of despair she had felt when she had heard George had taken Henry. "I too wish to thank you," the woman adds in a trembling, raw voice, "for taking care of our son when we cannot. If there is a way we can repay you, I—"

"I don't want anything from you," Leia spits heatedly, snatching her hand away from Marian's before it can touch her, "just stay the hell away." Killian jumps when Leia's hands glow with deep red light, and Emma can feel Leia's power simmering through the air—barely restrained.

Emma swallows thickly, startled by the pure hatred in Leia's voice, and stands up slowly, holding up her hands to appease Marian and the rest of the Merry Men, who all look quite affronted by Leia's angry words. "Okay," she drawls, "let's all stay calm. We need to focus on getting Roland back and taking out the Ice Queen."

"I can hold her off," Leia winces, "for a while—I won't be able to do anything else though. It'll take  _everything_  I have to hold her off  _and_ to make sure she can't hurt Roland."

"Well," Killian suggests slowly, "perhaps it is not a smart move to take yourself out, even to protect the lad." Emma swears that if looks could kill, Killian would be no more than a little pile of ashes on the floor—Leia's eyes are dark and stormy and flashing green with barely restrained magic—but Killian doesn't even look phased and merely smiles charmingly.

"Hear me out, little love," he tells Leia calmly, "if this woman is indeed so vile she would resort to harming an innocent child, perhaps we will need your expertise. You are the only one who has been able to muster the kind of power capable of defeating the Ice Queen."

"I don't care," Leia sighs quietly, "I won't let her hurt Roland."

Emma sighs, shaking her head a little—she wants to argue, but if Leia's anything like her and Killian, she's well aware that there won't be a damn thing she can say that will change Leia's mind.

"Please," Robin steps forward cautiously, eyeing both Leia and Marian—who looks confused rather than threatening, to be honest—warily, "We couldn't ask you to do this. Knowing you are willing to fight for my son is enough, I couldn't ask you to exchange your life for his if the Witch attempted to—"

He breaks off, looking vaguely nauseated by his own words, and shakes his head. "I couldn't ask this of you."

"You're not," Leia winces, pressing her hand to her stomach, "I'm not even offering. I'm  _telling_  you. I  _am_  doing this." And Emma  _wants_  to protest,  _wants_  to tell her daughter not to do this, but she knows that it will be futile.

She doesn't miss the death glare Leia sends towards Marian, and she once again wonders what on earth happened between Leia and Marian for the older woman to inspire such rage within the girl.

Marian wisely doesn't speak up again and lets Snow guide her to the kitchen—Leia visibly relaxes once the woman is out of sight—while Emma watches Killian gently pull Leia towards the stairs while she whispers about how to make sure she's okay while she's under the spell to protect Roland from harm.

"Go look for him," Emma finally tells Robin and the Merry men, "Start on the outskirts of town—caves, abandoned houses, somewhere where she could do whatever she needs and wants without being disturbed." She turns to Regina and asks, "Did the tracking spell work?"

Regina bristles angrily and hisses, "Do you think we'd still be here if it did?"

"Regina," David chides her gently, "We're all worried."

Emma just sighs and shakes her head, rubbing her palm over her forehead tiredly. "No, it's alright. Just… Try again? I'm going to see what Leia needs for the spell before I come back to help you."

Regina nods curtly, turning to give Henry a brief hug, before she leaves the loft with a cloud of purple smoke.

Emma frowns when she notes just how much Marian relaxes when Regina disappears, but decides that it is something that can wait until a later date—she guesses she would be relieved to see a rival for her love's heart leave the room too. She knows she's lucky with Killian—his attentions are so singularly focused on her that she knows she'll never have to worry about him straying.

It makes it a little easier to let him in and trust him.

She nods to Robin and sighs when Henry sidles up to her, attaching himself to her side as she follows her daughter and Killian up the stairs. "You okay, kid?" she asks quietly, pausing at the top step to give them a modicum of privacy—she knows Henry must feel a little overwhelmed, with everything that has been happening lately.

God knows she is.

"Yeah," Henry nods, "Just worried, you know? The Ice Queen is even crazier than George, and the only way to stop him was to—" He swallows thickly and Emma curses every villain in existence for forcing her little boy to see things he should  _never_  have been exposed to, especially not at his age.

"I just," he finally continues, "I'm worried what it'll take to defeat her."

"Yeah," Emma sighs heavily, catching sight of Leia lying on her back on the bed, Killian hovering by her side like the overprotective daddy they all know he's going to be, "Me too, kid. Me too."

Leia looks up when Emma and Henry walk into the room and smiles weakly. "I need you to cast a protection spell over my body while I'm under the spell," Leia says immediately, obviously not in the mood for small talk, "essentially, I'll be leaving my body an empty husk while my spirit protects Roland. It sounds far more mystical than it really is, but that is the easiest way I can think of to explain what will be happening."

Emma nods shakily—she's still not sure she can believe what is happening—but is unable to suppress an amused grin when Henry bounds past her and jumps to sit on the bed next to Leia, all but shoving Killian out of the way to ask Leia about spells and magic and what else she can do.

"She's going to be okay, love," Killian whispers to her as he joins her at the other side of the bed, "she's ours… I do believe she's more stubborn than the both of us put together. She won't fail."

Emma sighs a little and leans into his side, curling her fingers in the back of his shirt, and rests her head on his shoulder. "I know," she whispers, "I know." She watches as Leia smiles at Henry one more time before she turns to them with a serious expression.

"Are you ready?"

Emma laughs nervously and shrugs. "No. But let's do it anyway."

Leia chuckles quietly and lays down, wiggling around a little before she settles, her blue eyes already ringed with bright green as she begins muttering something—Emma can only assume it's the spell that will bring her to Roland—under her breath.

"Stay away from Marian," she says suddenly, her eyes locking on Emma's, "She's dangerous. Don't trust her."

And then, before Emma can even think of an appropriate response, Leia's entire body arches up, off the bed, her lips parted in a soundless scream as the lights flicker and baby Graham begins wailing in his crib downstairs, and every little hair on Emma's body stands on end as the near electric current of magic in the room intensifies—

And then it's gone.

Leia collapses back on the bed, her eyes closed and her body limp.

"Wow," Henry breathes, eyes wide and impressed as he stares at Leia, "That was awesome!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Charming Family Loft, Storybrooke, Maine—A week later**

"I'm worried about her," Emma whispers quietly, her hands shaking as she and Killian stand by Leia's bedside, studying their daughter's pale form, "she hasn't woken up once—" and she knows Leia had said that she wouldn't until she was sure Roland was safe, it still worries her, "and we're still no closer to finding Roland. I don't know how much longer she can keep taking his pain from him without succumbing to the injuries, and the lack of food and water."

They'd only managed to get Leia to drink little amounts of water, but since they weren't exactly sure if she'd need it, they'd refrained from getting Whale to put in a feeding tube.

She sighs and sinks into Killian's arms when he steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his hand and hook on her belly.

"She's strong, love," he replies steadily, though Emma can hear the tenseness in his voice, and she knows he is just as worried as she is. Everyone is worried—Robin and Marian and Regina are all frantic, ransacking the entire town in their search for the Ice Queen and Roland—, and even though Elsa is just as eager to find out what happened to her sister, she too has stopped searching for Anna until they can find Roland.

When Robin had tried to tell her they couldn't ask her to not look for her sister, Elsa had just said that that's what Anna would want her to do—she would never leave an innocent child in danger if she could help, and Elsa won't either.

And so, she and Elsa resumed training their magic—unfortunately without Leia's help this time.

Emma sighs and rubs her hand over her belly, where baby Leia is growing. They have their first doctor's appointment today, to confirm the pregnancy and to make sure the baby is growing properly.

Emma had refused at first, unwilling to take even a minute of her time away from searching for Roland, until Killian had pointed out that they had to take care of baby Leia as well as the adult version—if something were to happen to the baby, there would be no Leia at all, and that had been the point that swayed Emma's decision.

Killian is right, they need to take care of  _both_  versions of their daughter.

"We have to go, darling," Killian whispers in her ear, "your mother has assured me she and Elsa will stay by Leia's side the entire time we're gone."

Emma fidgets a little when she hears Robin's voice drift through the open door—if Robin's here, it means Marian is too, and after Leia's reaction to the woman, Emma isn't sure what to think of Robin's wife anymore.

Killian sighs when he realizes where her thoughts have wandered and presses his lips to her temple wordlessly—she knows he understands. They'd all been taken aback when Leia practically tried to curse Marion out of the loft when Emma finally managed to get Leia back there.

"Your mother knows how Leia feels about Maid Marian, love," Killian says softly, "I do not believe for a second she would leave Leia's side if there was a chance Marian would harm Leia."

Emma sighs but nods, turning around to face Killian, biting her lip at the downright exhausted look on his face—she is not the only one who's been looking for Roland with all possible means. Killian has proved, once again, how resourceful he had been in his pirating years, and showed that his tracking skills rivalled or even surpassed her mother's.

He had jokingly stated that it was years and years of treasure hunting—but Emma knew better.

She knew it was a skill his brother had taught him—he had mentioned it in passing, once. Apparently, Liam had been an excellent hunter as well as a naval captain. She supposes that having to fend for himself and his younger brother from a young age required Liam to become quite adept at finding other means of acquiring food when they were short on money.

She never bothered to correct Killian though, when he told her father that it was the pirate in him.

She knows he is still quite self-conscious about his past as a pirate—a villain, as he keeps telling himself—and she knows talking about Liam hurts him. The last thing Emma wants is to hurt Killian in any way.

"Come love," he finally whispers in her ear, "We must go, lest we shall be late for our appointment. I do look forward to seeing our child."

She chuckles a little—he had been mesmerized to learn of the concept of an ultrasound, and she knows he's spent some time on Henry's iPad to look up things on 'the Google'. "Yeah, me too," she replies quietly, turning in his arms to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Let's go."

.

.

.

**Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—ten minutes later**

She tries her best not to think about how  _weird_  it is to have Whale do her exam—she is  _not_  thinking about his onenightstand with her mother, she is  _not_ —and her ultrasound, but it still feels a little awkward. Killian does not help matters; he nearly put Whale through the wall when the man asked Emma to take off her pants for the physical part of her examination.

Apparently, his research on Google had not prepared him for pap smears and pelvic exams.

He is now sitting sedately on a chair next to the examination table, his fingers entwined with hers as he waits for Whale to get a decent image of the little bean in Emma's womb.

"So, Sheriff Swan," Whale drawls slowly, pressing down the wand on her belly a little harder, "everything seems to be in order—your baby is still really small, but it looks like she's right on track. Right there," he points to a small round bubble on the screen, "That's your baby."

"Gods," Killian breathes, and Emma doesn't even have to turn her head to look at him to know his eyes will be wide and stunned and slightly glazed over—her pirate  _is_  a bit of a sap.

Before Whale can offer to print the pictures for them though, the door slams open, and Emma nearly falls off the table in surprise when Belle strides in, the Dark One's dagger clutched firmly in her fist and her eyes watery with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," the young woman stutters, "I didn't want to interrupt, but this can't wait. Rumple made a deal with the Ice Queen—he gave me a fake dagger…" A tear rolls down her cheek at the confession and Emma's heart breaks for this beautiful woman who fell in love with a monster.

She exchanges a glance with Killian, reluctantly shoving aside her feelings of surprise to see Belle standing in the doorway while she's lying on an examination table with her pants off and her stomach bared. "What deal did the bloody Crocodile make, lass?" Killian stands up, eyes glued to the dagger in Belle's hand, "And how do you know?"

Belle shivers and swallows thickly, flexing her fingers around the dagger's handle before she meets Killian's intense gaze with her own. "I think I should tell everyone at once, so I won't have to go everything a million times... But I—" she sniffles a little, "I overheard them. It's bad."

She looks at Emma, her lower lip quivering, "They want to kill everyone."


	11. Sneak Peek Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Once again, I must apologize for the immensly long wait on this story. As I mentioned in my last AN, I'm having some health issues-I'm not going to bore you with the details-and I haven't been able to write because of those and school and work.
> 
> The good news, however, is that I'm done planning the story, and there will be four, maybe five, more chapters. Now, I'm not quite finished with the next chapter, and I'm not sure how long that will take, so I decided to give you all a sneak peek into the upcoming chapter, and a quick AN to tell you that it IS almost finished, but not quite.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're all well, I hope you all had a blast watching the Captains of our ship flaunt about at SDCC 2015 and that everyone is as excited as I am for Dark!Swan! :D
> 
> Love, Annaelle

 

**SNEAK PEEK**

Leia eyes Belle sadly, her eyes locked on Belle's fingers as well, before she whispers, "I can't let you take his Dagger. Not while you are still so willing to believe in him."

Belle looks as though she wants to protest, and Emma half expects her to burst into frustrated and angry tears, but instead, she and Leia lock gazes, staring at each other intently for a few moments before Belle chokes, "Why not? I would never—"

"Yes," Leia interrupts, her voice shaky—but Emma can sense Leia's anger, her magic brewing in the air, even as Killian slowly makes his way over to where their daughter is nearly  _hanging_  in her seat, "You would. And he would lie to you, and you will believe it. And you won't care."

"You don't know that!" Belle cries, her beautiful features twisted with rage and—unless Emma is very much mistaken—fear.

"Yes, I do!" Leia's agonized shout catches everyone off guard, and Emma winces when Leia glares at Belle angrily. "I  _do_  know all of that—I've  _seen_  all of that! I've  _lived_ through all of that! I've seen all of you do things you couldn't even  _imagine_  doing right now! I've  _seen_  my grandfather nearly  _die_  because he was grieving, I saw my mother struggle to look at me because she couldn't stand that I reminded her of my father—"

Leia's voice breaks, and Emma chokes, her hand pressed to her chest as though it'll lessen the ache, the deep-rooted fear that she'll lose Killian, that she'll hurt her daughter, "I saw  _you_ ," Leia continues, her eyes locking on Marian, " _destroy_  yourself to get back at my family for your loss. I saw you lose your mind because Robin protected Regina—I watched you go mad because she died anyway and you couldn't take out your anger on her. I watched you make your son miserable for years before he managed to break free of you. I watched you kill my grandfather before I nearly killed you myself. I saw Belle sacrifice everything she believed in so she could stay with the Dark One."

Emma swallows thickly, ignoring the silent tears running down her cheeks—and her mother's, and even Regina's—as everyone in the room stares at Leia, completely dumbstruck by her tirade.

David is staring at her, gobsmacked, and Emma knows he too has finally figured out who Leia is.

"Leia," she whispers, her daughter's gaze meeting hers, "honey…" She reaches out to touch Leia's hand, but Leia pulls away abruptly, her eyes red rimmed and teary. "No," Leia shakes her head, a sob falling from her lips, "No. Don't."

Her eyes find Belle's again, and her voice turns steely. "Don't tell me I don't know. I've seen what the future looks like if I give you that Dagger, and I promise you, you will not like it."

There's a short moment of silence before Mary Margret rises regally, her hands folded before her and her voice thick as she quietly asks to be excused before marching up the stairs, David trailing behind her demurely.

"No!" Marian cries angrily, "No, I wouldn't do such terrible things! You  _are_ wrong!" Killian winces in Leia's stead when Marian also stands and shoots Leia a disgusted glare before she marches away with her son in her arms, unsure of what to do—he cannot rightly blame Marian for her reaction to Leia's outburst; he would likely not have wanted to believe Leia either, had it been him.

Robin looks oddly conflicted, shooting Leia an apologetic look before he follows his wife, leaving Leia with Killian and Emma in the now empty living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks!
> 
> I'll be seeing you when the chapter is fully done!


	12. Chapter Ten—With a Little Help From My Friends—Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings.
> 
> I apologize for the long wait. Please have this extra long chapter as an apology.  
> I'm just gonna drop this here...
> 
> Also, tissue warning... Like, bring out the big tissue boxes-I was told you'd need them :p
> 
> Much thanks and love to my awesome beta's, DancingDoula and JustSmileBff! :D
> 
> Love,
> 
> Annaelle
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .  
> PREVIOUSLY ON SANDS OF TIME:
> 
> IN THE PAST, WE SEE LEIA ATTEMPT TO PITCH HER IDEA TO TRAVEL BACK IN TIME TO SAVE STORYBROOKE TO HENRY, WHO IS WORRIED ABOUT HIS SISTER ATTEMPTING SUCH A FEAT FIRST AND FOREMOST, BUT UNDERSTANDS THE POINT SHE MAKES WHEN SHE TELLS HIM SHE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO LIVE WITH HERSELF IF SHE KNEW SHE HAD THE POWER TO SAVE HER FAMILY AND DID NOTHING ABOUT IT.
> 
> EVENTUALLY, HENRY CONCEDES AND ALLOWS LEIA TO START PLANNING HER JOURNEY WITH HIS BLESSING. WHEN HE JOKES THAT HE HAD EXPECTED LEIA AND ROLAND TO ASK HIM FOR HIS BLESSING FOR THEIR MARRIAGE, BOTH BECOME AMBARRASSED AND TRY NOT TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER.
> 
> IN THE PRESENT:
> 
> EMMA BRINGS LEIA, WHO IS STILL IN A LOT OF PAIN, BACK TO THE LOFT, WHERE SHE AND THE REST OF HER FAMILY ARE GATHERED TO FIND A WAY TO LOCATE AND RESCUE ROLAND, WHO HAS BEEN CAPTURED BY THE ICE QUEEN. EMMA REALIZES THAT, SLOWLY, PEOPLE ARE STARTING TO REALIZE WHO LEIA IS TO THEM AND THEIR FAMILY. SHE ALSO REALIZES WHO ROLAND WILL GROW UP TO BE TO HER DAUGHTER, AND SHE FINDS THAT THE REALIZATION ISN'T AS WEIRD AS SHE WOULD THINK IT WOULD BE.
> 
> LEIA DECIDES TO PUT HERSELF IN A MAGICAL TRANCE TO SAVE ROLAND FROM FEELING THE TORTURE THE ICE QUEEN IS TRYING TO INFLICT UPON HIM, AND THOUGH A FEW PEOPLE PROTEST AT FIRST, SHE PERSISTS AND CASTS THE SPELL, AFTER HENRY GRILLED HER ABOUT MAGIC AND THE FUTURE.
> 
> AFTER A WEEK, THEY ARE STILL NO CLOSER TO FINDING ROLAND, AND EMMA AND KILLIAN ATTEND A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT TO SEE IF THE BABY IS PERFECTLY OKAY, WHICH IS INTERRUPTED BY BELLE, WHO TELLS THEM SHE HAS TO WARN THEM ABOUT RUMPLE, WHO HAS SEEMINGLY TEAMED UP WITH THE ICE QUEEN.
> 
> AND NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW!

**Chapter Ten** **—With a Little Help From My Friends** **—Part II**

_(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)_  
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time  
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)  
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine

 _Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends_  
I get high with a little help from my friends  
Oh, I'm going to try with a little help from my friends

_—A Little Help From My Friends, The Beatles_

**Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future**

Her long, dark hair is fanned out on the white pillow, the soft sheets twisted around her hips, as she sleeps soundly. Her arms are wrapped around the pillow he had slept on, and every few seconds, he can hear the softest, cutest little snore escape her lips. He is certain he is not supposed to be in here—after all, they are not yet wedded, and it is beyond improper for a crown princess to share her bed with a man before marriage—but he honestly cannot bring himself to care.

He has had precious little time to spend with Leia since they arrived, and he really doesn't want to burst the peaceful, quiet silence of the morning just yet.

Of course, he realizes it is ridiculous to worry about such things now—he and Leia have been sharing a bed for a year already, and he had shared her bed long before that too.

He smiles when she sighs and moves in her sleep, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft, creamy skin that is exposed when the sheets slip further down. He is unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch her warm skin, and trails his fingers up and down her naked back gently.

He loses himself in thought as he contemplates the three weeks they have spent at the castle.

He can tell Leia has enjoyed spending time with her brother and uncle, and he sees how she adores her little nephew. The first time he had seen them together, he had nearly choked on his own spit when he realized how much he wished to see her with a child of their own—because he knows she still plans on leaving.

He knows she still plans on carrying out her plans to save their families.

He knows that there is a chance he will never have such a life with his love, and it pains him to even consider a future when he is not certain they will have one.

He knows that if he were a lesser man, he would have left her side a long time ago—he would not have asked her to become his wife—he would not have consented to marry her before she would set off on her mission—he would not have  _stayed_.

But he did.

He loves Leia in a way he knows he will never love another, and he knows that it is a kind of love he should not—and will not—abandon.

"You are staring again," she mumbles into the pillow, not once opening her eyes to look at him—he can't help but chuckle.

"Only because I cannot take my eyes off of you, love," he smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She hums in amusement, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his messy curls, and whispers, "You do say the sweetest things sometimes."

He smiles happily and leans down to kiss her for a brief moment, before he tears his lips from hers and trails soft, warm kisses down her throat.

"Roland," Leia sighs, dragging her fingers down his spine, "We do not have time. My maids will be here soon." In contradiction to her own words, her fingers tangle in his dark locks, pulling him closer as she hitches a leg around his waist.

He growls against her soft skin as she yanks on his hair playfully and nips at the skin of her neck in retaliation. "I don't care," he mutters, pressing gentle kisses to the angry red mark he left on her skin, smiling when she gasps quietly and digs her fingers into his back. He chuckles and kisses his back up to her lips, not even pretending to be surprised when she manages to roll them over so she's straddling him.

He whines low in his throat—the Gods know he is absolutely wrapped around this princess's little finger—when she breaks the kiss and sits up, resting her hands on his stomach as she grins down at him. "You need to go back to your own chambers," she tells him seriously, "you know the groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding—much less share a bed with her the night before."

He smirks and leans up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before moving to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, desperately trying to distract her—not that he is not looking forward to their wedding, he really is—because he is not ready to face the world just yet.

Unfortunately, his soon-to-be bride sees through his distraction within moments and—despite his best efforts to keep her distracted and in his arms—she manages to peel herself from his embrace and slips out of the bed, retrieving her discarded nightgown and pulling it over head before she turns to look at him in amusement.

"You wouldn't want to be late to your own wedding, would you?" She raises an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she regards him closely—he knows that look, and he knows she means business.

"Fine," he grumbles playfully, moving to get out of the bed and to get dressed, "But only because I have a very important meeting with a very beautiful girl later." He smiles at her when she giggles and crosses the room to wrap her in his arms once more—and despite the doubts and fear that lingers in the back of his mind, despite that he is not sure what kind of future lays ahead of them, he is looking forward to marry the woman he's loved for years.

"I can't wait to marry you," she confides quietly as she rests her head against his shoulder.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head and closes his eyes, savouring this last moment they'll have together before their lives will explode into a chaotic mess of politics and magic.

He is afraid.

And he still does not like the idea of Leia going back in time.

But he loves Leia.

And he will never stop fighting for her.

.

.

.

**Charming's Loft, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

This isn't how Emma imagined her homecoming after her first ultrasound appointment—she'd expected there to be tears (from her mother), and hugging (from her father), and hot chocolate, and ooh'ing and aah'ing over the pictures (from all of them).

She did not expect solemn silence, a nervous tension so thick it could be cut with a knife hanging in the air as everyone watches her mother offer Belle several beverages before she, too, settles in a chair, looking at the brunette beauty expectantly.

Emma's eyes are intermittently drawn to Marian, who's sitting next to Robin, her back perfectly straight and her hands folded demurely in her lap, her eyes on Belle—and though she's pretty sure that Marian isn't out to harm any of them, Leia's warning still rings loudly in her mind.

"Okay, Belle," Snow smiles sweetly, "why don't you tell us why you're here?"

Emma narrowly supresses a grin—only her mother could make this sound like a spontaneous dinner party instead of an emergency meeting to conceive a way to save all their lives—and leans against Killian for support as Belle starts talking, her voice soft and a little shaky, but still determined.

"I was cleaning the back of the shop," Belle swallows thickly, "I don't think Rumple realized I was there… I was supposed to be in the library, you see, and… And then I heard them. They were talking about the little boy—Roland—at first. Rumple has him now… He's locked in the basement. I wanted to get him out first, but I knew Rumple wouldn't touch him, and I knew that if I got him out, Rumple would know I knew, so I decided to come here first, to warn you—they…"

Belle chokes back a sob, and Emma straightens, her fingers tightening around Killian's hook. "Wait," she says slowly, "Rumple has Roland? He's safe?"

Belle's teary gaze turns to Emma as she nods a little. "As safe as he can be right now. I heard the Ice Queen say she had no more use for him."

"Oh thank the Gods," Robin exhales shakily, hesitantly allowing Marian to lean into him after a quick look at Regina, "We have to go get him then. Why are we simply sitting here?"

Before anyone can respond, Killian swallows thickly and says, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, mate, but this is hardly the end of Lady Belle's tale. Also, I do believe that if your lad were truly safe, Leia would have pulled herself out of her spell by now."

Emma looks down, biting her lip nervously as she considers the truth in Killian's words—she, too, believes that Leia would have come charging down the stairs the second she knew Roland was safe—and then shakes her head, running her fingers through her hair. "Tell them the rest, Belle," she sighs, "we need to know what we're up against."

Belle exhales shakily, looking down at her folded hands before she whispers, "They were talking about making sure they'd get their own Happy Ending—at the expense of everyone else's. They—they didn't  _care_ ," Emma winces when Belle's voice breaks, " _he_  didn't care that they'd be ruining dozens of lives. Rumple said he would pretend to have only saved me and Henry because he was too late to save everyone else—and we wouldn't know any better, so we'd go with him and become a family somewhere else."

Killian swears loudly, and both Robin and her father look like they very much would like to join in—and she can't deny that she would like to curse Rumpelstiltskin out herself—while Marian and Regina just look stricken.

"Gods," Marian whispers, "why would they wish us such ill fates? What did we ever do to them?"

"He's a demon," Killian spits, abruptly jumping to his feet, fiddling with his hook, "he's a bloody monster that should have been put down a long time ago."

"Killian', Snow reprimands, "That's not—"

But Belle interrupts before Snow can finish and whispers, "No. He's right." It obviously costs the young woman a lot to speak the words, and Emma can't help but admire her strength. "He's right," Belle repeats. "I thought… I once said that Hoo— _Killian's_  heart was beyond saving," Emma raises an eyebrow in surprise, but remains mum when Killian and Belle exchange a long look, "I was wrong. It was the other way around. It always was. You did what he couldn't—what he  _wouldn't_. You abandoned the darkness for the light; for love. And Rumpelstiltskin might love me, but the Dark One doesn't. And not even my love is strong enough to break through that curse anymore."

"I'm sorry," Elsa says slowly, "I'm confused. You are his wife, then? This Dark One… He is the man you took me to," she nods to Killian, "to see if he could find Ana for me?"

"Aye," Killian says, and Belle nods shakily.

"But he said that you had his Dagger," Elsa frowns thoughtfully, "I was under the impression that you could control him with it."

"I could," Belle spits, sounding surprisingly bitter and angry, and quite unlike herself, "if he had given me the real Dagger. He didn't. I found out today that he gave me a fake Dagger, so that he could plead innocence by having me use it on him when I commanded him to tell me the truth." Another tear rolls down Belle's cheek, and Emma wants to reach for her, wants to hold her hand and tell her that she deserves so much better than a lying bastard like Rumple, because she may not know Belle very well—she suspects no one knows Belle very well—but she does know that the woman is a genuinely good person.

A tad naïve, perhaps, but a good person, who hasn't deserved any of the crap Rumple has put her through.

Before she can though, Killian strides forward, gently resting his hand on Belle's shoulder. "We'll stop him, lass," he vows, "We will stop the Dark One, and, if it is at all possible," he looks down and shakes his head before continuing, "we will see to it that your husband…  _Rumpelstiltskin_ , is returned to you. The man may be a coward, but I do believe he genuinely loves you."

Belle seems a little heartened by his words, but shakes her head nonetheless. "It doesn't matter," she sighs, "What he is trying to do is unforgivable. I can't—" She breaks off and shakes her head. "All I ask is that you allow me to deal with him." When she looks up, Emma can see unshed tears in her eyes, but also an air of determination that tells her to let Belle handle her wayward husband.

"Once we get the real Dagger," Belle continues, "I would like you to give it to me, and I would like you to trust that I will deal with him so that no one will have to worry about the Dark One ever again."

"No."

Everyone jumps at the sudden interruption, and Emma whirls around to see Leia leaning against the bottom of the staircase, looking tired and worn, undoubtedly from using such strong magic for an extended period of time—with Roland cradled in her arms, the little boy's head resting against Leia's collar bone as little snores escape his lips, his little fingers twitching against Leia's shirt.

"Roland!"

Marian and Robin are up and at Leia's side before anyone can do more than blink confusedly, nearly snatching their son from Leia's arms and covering every inch of his skin with kisses. "Thank you," Emma watches as Robin nearly trips over himself to take Leia's hands in his, his voice shaky and unsure, "Thank you so much for keeping him safe."

"Don't mention it," Leia sighs heavily, offering Robin a tired—and somewhat thankful—smile when he offers her his arm to help her to a chair, as Marian snuggles Roland close, her arms wrapped tightly around her son's little body.

Belle gapes at Leia as the girl makes her way to the assembled group, her hand pressed to her ribs as she sinks down on one of the empty seats. "How—how did you get him out?" Belle stutters, her eyes flitting between Roland's still sleeping form in his mother's arms—as Regina looks on with something akin to envy in her eyes—and Leia, who is slightly slumped in her seat, but looks no less fearsome.

"Please," Leia snorts, "even the Dark One couldn't keep me out when Roland was in there." Killian snickers, and Emma rolls her eyes at him—because  _of course_  he would be proud of their daughter undoing the Dark One's protection spells with a mere flick of her hand—before her attention is drawn back to Leia, who continued, "And we won't be giving you the Dagger."

"Why—" Belle stutters, her cheeks flaming red, "He's  _my_  husband. I should be the one to deal with him. Why would you not agree to this?" Emma is about to agree when her eye falls on Belle's hands—where her fingers are repeatedly twirling her wedding ring around her finger.

Leia eyes Belle sadly, her eyes locked on Belle's fingers as well, before she whispers, "I can't let you take his Dagger. Not while you are still so willing to believe in him."

Belle looks as though she wants to protest, and Emma half expects her to burst into frustrated and angry tears, but instead, she and Leia lock gazes, staring at each other intently for a few moments before Belle chokes, "Why not? I would never—"

"Yes," Leia interrupts, her voice shaky—but Emma can sense Leia's anger, her magic brewing in the air, even as Killian slowly makes his way over to where their daughter is nearly  _hanging_  in her seat, "You would. And he would lie to you, and you will believe it. And you won't care."

"You don't know that!" Belle cries, her beautiful features twisted with rage and—unless Emma is very much mistaken—fear.

"Yes, I do!" Leia's agonized shout catches everyone off guard, and Emma winces when Leia glares at Belle angrily. "I  _do_  know all of that—I've  _seen_  all of that! I've  _lived_ through all of that! I've seen all of you do things you couldn't even  _imagine_  doing right now! I've  _seen_  my grandfather nearly  _die_  because he was grieving, I saw my mother struggle to look at me because she couldn't stand that I reminded her of my father—"

Leia's voice breaks, and Emma chokes, her hand pressed to her chest as though it'll lessen the ache, the deep-rooted fear that she'll lose Killian, that she'll hurt her daughter. "I saw  _you_ ," Leia continues, her eyes locking on Marian, " _destroy_  yourself to get back at my family for your loss. I saw you lose your mind because Robin protected Regina—I watched you go mad because she died anyway and you couldn't take out your anger on her. I watched you make your son miserable for years before he managed to break free of you. I watched you kill my grandfather before I nearly killed you myself. I saw Belle sacrifice everything she believed in so she could stay with the Dark One."

Emma swallows thickly, ignoring the silent tears running down her cheeks—and her mother's, and even Regina's—as everyone in the room stares at Leia, completely dumbstruck by her tirade.

David is staring at her, gobsmacked, and Emma knows he too has finally figured out who Leia is.

"Leia," she whispers, her daughter's gaze meeting hers, "honey…" She reaches out to touch Leia's hand, but Leia pulls away abruptly, her eyes red rimmed and teary. "No," Leia shakes her head, a sob falling from her lips, "No. Don't."

Her eyes find Belle's again, and her voice turns steely. "Don't tell me I don't know. I've seen what the future looks like if I give you that Dagger, and I promise you, you will not like it."

There's a short moment of silence before Mary Margret rises regally, her hands folded before her and her voice thick as she quietly asks to be excused before marching up the stairs, David trailing behind her demurely.

"No!" Marian cries angrily, "No, I wouldn't do such terrible things! You  _are_ wrong!" Killian winces in Leia's stead when Marian also stands and shoots Leia a disgusted glare before she marches away with her son in her arms, unsure of what to do—he cannot rightly blame Marian for her reaction to Leia's outburst; he would likely not have wanted to believe Leia either, had it been him.

Robin looks oddly conflicted, shooting Leia an apologetic look before he follows his wife, leaving Leia with Killian and Emma in the now empty living room.

Killian doesn't have to look at Leia's face to know that she is crying—and Killian can't even  _begin_  to imagine how hard it must be for Leia to let Marian take Roland, knowing the things that Leia does, having seen the things Leia has, and he has to admire his daughter's strength once again.

"Leia," Killian says gently, stepping forward to touch Leia's shoulder, "are you—" He stops himself before he asks if Leia is okay, because he  _knows_  Leia isn't okay. Instead, he steps forward and hugs the girl tightly, allowing Leia to sob quietly for a long moment—he feels for her; and he wishes he had been there during her life.

"I'm sorry," Leia whispers, "I shouldn't have said that, but I was just…"

Killian shakes his head, and Emma moves forward to sit next to her daughter on the loveseat, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as she whispers, "It's going to be okay. Somehow."

Leia looks up at her with teary eyes that make her heart clench painfully before she whispers, "No. It's not. I know which Spell she's going to use. And I don't think we can stop it."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Storybrooke Library, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

"What about infusing a shield that you and I can conjure with fairy dust?"

Regina shakes her head before Emma is even finished speaking, and Elsa exhales audibly in frustration as she shoves another book to the side. "This is useless," Elsa grumbles, "There is nothing of use in these books. If Leia is indeed correct, and the Queen is to cast the Spell of Shattered Sight, there is nothing anyone of us can do to stop it!" Small patches of ice spread from underneath Elsa's slender fingers on the desk, and small snowflakes flutter down from above the blonde's head—Emma sighs and nods from her spot on the floor, where she is sitting against the desk Elsa is seated at, with a large book on her lap.

She rests her head back against the desk and stares blankly at the yellowed pages, not truly seeing anything. It's not the first suggestion one of them has shot down—in fact, Leia had made more suggestions than all three of them put together, and Emma can't shake the impression that Leia is growing more and more desperate and fearful with every idea that is shot down.

It makes her feel… Unsettled.

She hates to admit it, because she  _adores_  the baby growing in her belly already, but she finds it difficult to feel the same kind of love for Leia—it makes little sense, since they are, after all, the same person, but it is a feeling Emma can't quite shake.

She supposes it could be a leftover from her days in the system; the days she spent wondering if anyone was ever going to love her. Maybe it's the idea that Leia represents a future where she'll still have lost everything.

Emma doesn't know what it is that keeps her from feeling the love she knows she can feel, but she knows that Leia knows; and she hates that. "Well, we're going to have to come up with something," she replies eventually, "if not, we'll just tear each other apart and all die anyway."

Leia frowns but doesn't say anything, merely resting her head in her hands with a soft sigh.

Emma bites her lip when she sees that Leia does seem genuinely upset, and she mentally slaps herself when she realizes that she just made it seem like everything Leia did and gave up to be able to help them was useless. "Leia," she sighs, waiting for her daughter to look up at her, "I didn't mean it like that."

Regina raises an eyebrow as she eyes the other women in the room. "Come on," she snaps impatiently, "I thought you heroes never gave up. The four of us are the most powerful sorceresses in  _history_ —I'm sure we can come up with something that'll kick that icy bitch's ass."

Leia snorts in amusement, and Emma can't stop a small smile from spreading on her lips—even Elsa looks somewhat heartened by Regina's encouraging words.

"I think I have a different idea," Leia says slowly, fidgeting with the pages of the book before her, "but the shield I have in mind needs some modification… It won't be easy." She contemplates her words for a short moment, before she continues, "It is somewhat like the spell that surrounds the town, but it is far easier to reverse once the threat has passed."

"Show me," Regina orders as she approaches the cabinet Leia had perched herself on top of. She takes the book from Leia carefully, studying the page Leia indicates silently. "I see what you mean," Regina nods after a short silence, "but this protection spell requires Elemental Magic. I do not know how—"

"I do," Leia interrupts, smiling at her mother as she and Elsa get up to join Regina as she studies the spell once again, "I studied Elemental Magic for years, and it is, in essence, not that difficult."

"Hold on," Emma squeaks, her eyes widening in alarm as she manages to translate the final passage on the page, "it says here that the one casting the spell will be locked out of its protection, and will have to face the thing it is protecting the others from."

Leia nods slowly, and Emma can  _feel_  that there is something Leia is holding back when she replies, "Hence why it needs modification. I don't think anyone fancies facing that particular spell on their own."

Something about the way Leia speaks the words sends cold shivers down Emma's spine, even as Elsa and Regina murmur in agreement. "Perhaps we could get the fairies to help us," Elsa suggests, "we are, after all, attempting to save their lives as well." Emma turns to Elsa to find the young queen pacing once again, snowflakes following in her wake.

"It's not a bad idea," Emma acquiesces, shrugging, "I could call Mary Margret to go get them while we keep looking." She eyes Leia suspiciously for another moment before she decides to pull her daughter aside and talk to her later, and pulls out her phone to send her mother a text. Before she can press 'send' though, the double doors slam open, and Belle storms in, her hair in a wild disarray, and her eyes wide with panic, clutching the fake Dagger in her hand tightly.

"He knows," she pants, her voice cracking with emotion, "he knows that I caught them—he knows that you know. He left; he's going to her, I know it—what if she casts the Spell sooner than she planned?"

Emma's heart sinks, because they are  _not_  ready, they don't have a plan yet, and they most certainly  _cannot_  take on both the Ice Queen  _and_  the Dark One.

"She can't," Elsa stammers, the snow falling more rapidly now, "right? She can't rush the process of casting the Spell; we knew for sure that it would take at least until tomorrow morning."

"Unless she possesses the ability to use Elemental Magic too," Leia speaks up, and Emma is surprised to hear how calm and steady Leia's voice is—because the mere  _thought_  of the Queen being able to cast the Spell without them having some kind of protection spell in place makes her nauseated. She eyes her daughter carefully, but she's unable to read any kind of emotion off of her face, and that makes her feel even more suspicious.

"That's impossible," Regina scoffs, "Even the Dark One himself has not mastered Elemental Magic. It has not been done since… Well, I don't know how long, but it has been millennia, I am sure."

"But we have no idea how long she was in that urn—" Leia protests, and Emma blanches at that; to be honest, she had not even realized that the Ice Queen, too, had been locked in the urn with Elsa, until Leia mentioned it. "For all we know, she has been in there since before the art became forgotten."

That shuts everyone up for a moment—Leia chooses the moment to slide off the cabinet and cross the room to the window. "Either way," she sighs, "we don't have much time left. I'm certain the Dark One has a few tricks up his sleeve, and even if they cast the incomplete Spell, it will cause untold devastation in town—they'll be able to pick off the survivors one by one. We'll be too weak to fight back."

The words send a cold shiver down Emma's spine, and she wonders if that is what happened in Leia's past—if that is how she lost Killian and her mother and so many others. If that was how Emma's heart broke so irreparably that she made her daughter feel as though she didn't want her.

She's not too sure she wants to know the answer to that question.

"Then what do you propose we do?" Regina snipes, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Leia's back, "I, for one, am not going to sit around and wait while she tries to curse me."

Leia spins on her heel and raises an eyebrow at Regina, a smirk tugging on her lips—and she looks  _so much_  like Killian that it makes Emma's heart skip a beat—as she drawls, "Do you honestly think I went through the trouble of creating a spell that allowed me to travel back in time, casting it, nearly dying a couple times and saving your arses just to sit back and let her win now—because I thought you were cleverer than that."

Elsa snorts while Emma barely manages to hide her grin at Regina's almost-scandalized expression; they all know Regina's not truly offended.

If anything, Regina appreciates Leia's wit, and the fact that Leia is not as idealistically heroic like her grandparents—and they all know it.

"We'll have to modify the shield while we're casting it," Leia continues, ignoring the fresh wave of protests that fall from Emma and Elsa's lips, "there's no time for trial and error—she could be casting the Spell as we speak. If we want to save even one person from being affected by it, we need to start casting it now."

The sense of urgency in Leia's voice makes Emma fall silent, and a heavy weight settles in the pit of her stomach. "What do we need?" She asks shakily, her hand falling to cover her belly without thinking as she meets her daughter's steady gaze with her own. "What can I do?"

"Get Pap—Killian," Leia replies slowly, "and ask Granny if she will mind Henry and Graham, so grandpa and grandma can be involved as well. I'll need as many True Love couples as I can get at the docks—I'll need to draw on that strength as well to make sure the shield won't be breached."

Emma nods shakily, ignoring the fact that Leia once again referenced to Emma's own relationship with Killian as True Love, and sets aside her growing feeling of dread to be able to do her job; the town needs a Savior right now— _Leia_ needs a Savior right now.

She refuses to be a disappointment to her daughter and the town.

She swallows thickly and moves towards the door, barely managing two steps before she feels compelled to turn to look at her daughter—Leia's face is drawn and pale, and she looks as worried as Emma feels, and it makes her stomach roll. "Be careful, Leia," Emma whispers, "Please don't do anything stupid."

"Of course not," Leia replies quietly, her smile tight and not overly convincing, "I never do anything stupid or impulsive. If anything, I think things through far too much." And though Emma wants to believe that Leia isn't going to do anything stupid and potentially life-threatening, and as much as she wants to take those words as a reassurance rather than an ominous warning, something in her daughter's expression tells her that she might be planning to do something exactly like that.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Merry Men Encampment, West Woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

"This is ridiculous, Robin," Marian rants, pacing back and forth in front of the dying embers of their campfire, "this  _girl_  comes out of nowhere and accuses me of  _murder_  and  _abuse_! How can you just sit there and let her say things like that to me in front of everyone! Especially in front of the Evil Queen!" She doesn't see the way Robin winces when she mentions Regina, and it is just as well—Robin does not fancy adding fuel to the fire that is her indignant rage.

"Marian," he sighs, "Please. Leia was tired and afraid—she lashed out at all of us. Do not take it personally." He doesn't add that he suspects Leia to be their son's future True Love—nor does he mention that he cannot truly fault the girl for hurling accusations of crimes that haven't even been committed yet; he can only imagine how difficult it must be for her to see the way things are now, before her time, knowing the things she does.

"And stop defending her!" Marian cries, rounding on her husband with tears of anger burning in her eyes, "You're  _supposed_  to be defending  _me_! You're supposed to love  _me_!" Her heart aches when she takes in his slumped form, the way he's turned away from her just a little bit, and she nearly breaks when she whispers, "When did you stop loving  _me_?"

Robin chokes, his heart clenching at the absolute heartbreak in Marian's voice, because he  _never_  meant to make his wife like he doesn't love her—he  _does_ , and he always will; he would not have married her had he not believed he would always love Marian. "I never stopped loving you, Marian," he whispers hoarsely, "But you must understand… While it was yesterday for you—" his voice breaks, because he doesn't  _want_  to say this, he doesn't  _want_  to hurt Marian, because he made a vow to her, and he feels like he should stay true to that vow, because that is what he has always believed in.

If he breaks his word now, what does that say about him?

It would negate everything he has ever believed in, and he is not quite sure he is ready to deal with that.

"—I believed you were dead for nigh three decades, Marian," he trails off quietly, "I'd moved on—perhaps not with the kind of person you or I would have expected, but I did fall in love with her."

Marian exhales shakily, her hands trembling as she moves to sit next to her husband. "She's the reason I disappeared from your life in the first place." She tries not to sound angry and resentful, but she cannot hide the fact that she  _is_. She'd loved Robin from the moment they met, and she had truly believed they were True Love—and she had never doubted it until the moment she saw the way her husband looked at the woman who had imprisoned her for refusing to give up Snow White's location.

"She's not that woman anymore," Robin protests weakly, though he knows it'll mean little to Marian. "She changed—became a better person. And I fell in love with that person—" he sighs and whispers, "I love you, Marian, and I always will… But I'm in love with her."

"I know," she admits quietly, her eyes downcast and her lips down-turned, "though I wish it wasn't so."

"Aye," Robin breathes, "sometimes, I do as well."

Marian offers him a sad smile before she leans her head against his shoulder and sighs. "I do not want to keep you from your happiness. If she is what will make you happy…" She swallows thickly and shudders before finishing, "then I do not wish to stand in your way."

It lightens Robin's heart to hear her speak the words that set him free from his vow to her, even though he knows she only says the words out of love for him. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it," he says as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, "we need to keep our son safe from this Ice Queen first—help Regina and the others defeat her… And then, when there are no villains around, we can decide what to do."

Marian nods mutely, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as she considers the fact that she will be losing her husband in a few weeks—maybe even days—time.

She doesn't think she's ready to give him up.

But she will try—she doesn't want to be his second choice; she doesn't want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with her.

.

.

.

**The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

Emma fidgets as she watches Regina and Leia pace back and forth along the edge of the docks, Leia gesturing wildly as Regina shakes her head. Emma knows they're arguing about how to cast the protection spell without having to lock someone outside of its protection, but the longer they are arguing, the clearer it becomes to Emma that they might not be able to save everyone this time—and the mere thought of it makes her feel sick.

"Are you alright, love?"

She sighs quietly when Killian steps up behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her waist as she leans back into his embrace. "No," she breathes, "I'm not. Our daughter is trying to save our town, and if she can't, we're all going to die, and I can't help at all. I hate feeling so… Useless."

Leia had actually refused to let her cast any sort of magical spell before it was absolutely necessary, since Elemental Magic requires a lot from the caster's body—even for someone in perfect health, like Leia and Regina, casting the spell using Elemental Magic will be incredibly physically taxing—and Emma knows she's right; she's pregnant, she can't risk doing anything too physically straining, especially a kind of magic that hasn't been properly explored for thousands of years, but it  _is_  incredibly frustrating.

"I know, darling," Killian soothes her, rubbing his hand on her belly, where their daughter is growing, "but what you  _are_  doing is important as well. You are fighting to keep our daughter— _our_  daughter—safe; to give her a future better than the one fate bestowed upon her." He presses a kiss to her hair and she melts into his arms, briefly allowing herself a moment of peace before she has to return to worrying—to fearing for their lives and their futures.

"Emma?"

Her peaceful bubble is shattered by her mother's soft voice, and she turns to see her mother and father standing a few paces behind her and Killian, Ariel and Eric, Ashley and Thomas and even Robin gathered in a small group behind them.

"Hey," she gulps nervously, "I think Leia and Regina are almost ready to start casting the Spell."

Her mother nods and smiles tightly, before turning to the other couples gathered behind her and explaining what will be happening. Emma bites her lip as she watches her parents gesture hurriedly, the heavy pit in her stomach only growing larger and heavier the longer she looks from Leia and Regina to her parents and the other True Love's couples.

With a quiet grumble, she turns and promptly hides her face against Killian's chest—she knows it will not make the situation any better, nor easier, if she pretends that it isn't happening, but she's just  _so_  tired of having to fight constantly.

She's so tired of needing to defend her right to live a happy and peaceful life with a family she once thought she would never have.

"We are going to start," Leia announces when she and Regina join her and Killian, "we think we have a pretty good idea of where to alter the protection spell's incantation to allow the caster to remain inside the protection barrier as well. It should work, especially with so many True Love's couples to aid our powers."

Emma looks up and smiles tightly. "Okay. Can I help?"

Regina shakes her head and lays a surprisingly gentle hand on Emma's shoulder. "No. Not with the actual casting of the spell. It is too much—the baby would not be able to handle a spell of this calibre; it is dangerous even for us."

Emma pouts, but nods in understanding. She doesn't want to do anything that might harm baby Leia—even if it means staying out of the actual action this time. Elsa sidles up beside them and smiles at Emma. "Worry not. I shall be taking over your part in the spell. I won't let anything happen to your family. And after, perhaps we can find my sister."

Emma nods, sending Elsa a grateful smile—she may not have known the young queen for very long, but she and Elsa were kindred spirits, in a way. She hoped that, when they had found what had happened to Elsa's family, Elsa would choose to remain in Storybrooke—Emma would enjoy having a friend that wasn't her mother.

"We must begin," Leia interrupts abruptly, her eyes flashing with green as they scan the horizon, "I can feel her magic brewing—she too will cast her spell soon."

The note of urgency in Leia's voice snaps them all to attention, and the others gather around them, all eager to hear what Leia needs from them to protect their town. "Just…" Leia hesitates as she scans the faces of all the people that turned up, "hold hands. Focus on your love for one another. I will be tapping into that magic, and I will need you to let me. You'll feel tired—you'll feel a little drained; but whatever you do, don't stop focusing on that love. If you do, the whole spell will collapse onto itself."

Emma swallows thickly, somewhat afraid of the implication that Leia and Regina's success or failure will be upon them, but remains mum. If this is all she can do to help her daughter protect the town and the people they love, then that's what she'll do.

"You can do this, little love," Killian tells Leia, smiling brightly as he pulls his daughter into his arms. "I have faith in you." He pretends not to notice how tightly Leia's fingers grip his shoulders as she hugs him in return—pretends he doesn't hear the shaky exhale that falls from her lips as she rests her forehead against his shoulder—pretends he doesn't notice the salty tears that drip through his shirt onto his skin.

"It's going to be fine," he breathes, rubbing his hand over her back in a comforting gesture, "you're a hero already, little love. You've already saved us." He doesn't know if it offers her any sort of comfort to hear the words, and honestly, even if it didn't, he's fairly certain she appreciated the effort all the same.

They remain as they are for one more moment, embracing tightly, as though it might be the last time they get the chance—perhaps it is, but he is choosing to believe that it will not be—before Leia pulls herself away, straightening up and wiping a few strands of hair from her face as she turns to Regina.

"We should start," she says, her voice surprisingly level, "I'll need to focus on Robin as much as you can—the only part of the spell you'll need to say with me is the part that will allow me to remain within its protection as well. That's it."

Killian smiles towards Leia as Regina nods, reaching for Emma's hand as he does so.

"We are ready as well," Ashley replies in a steady voice, her hands firmly entwined with her husband's, glancing over her shoulder to find the other couples nodding as well. "We won't let you down."

Leia nods jerkily before spinning on her heel, striding towards the edge of the docks—Killian doesn't think anyone notices just how badly her hands are shaking, and he hates that they are putting  _so_  much pressure on her… And if he could do this in her place, he would. For once, he hates that he possesses no magic; that he can be of no use here, other than remembering how much he loves Emma.

"She can do this," Emma whispers, and he's not too sure if she's telling him, or if she's telling herself.

"Of course she can," Killian replies succulently, drawing Emma into his arms as they watch their daughter start the process of casting the spell, "she's quite brilliant—just like her mother."

Emma clutches his hand in hers and presses their entangled fingers to her belly as she leans back into him. "I love you," she whispers, her voice small and trembling, "I love you, and Henry and Leia and my parents. I love all of you." He presses a kiss to her head when she finishes speaking and smiles a little. "I love you as well, darling. All of you. It's enough. Our love will be strong enough to help her succeed."

He keeps his eyes on his daughter as he speaks, and prays to whatever deity that is listening that he is right.

He's not certain he would be able to handle the alternative.

.

.

.

**Hidden caves, West Woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

As she paces the small space, she studies the intricate designs her ice has left on the cold stone walls. It is all she can do, after all, while she waits for the Dark One to fulfill his word—it is an unusual manner of operating, for her, to trust that others will carry out their part of the plan, but she has little choice.

She has no knowledge of the strange world she had suddenly found herself in.

She had no knowledge of how many years she had spent imprisoned in the small enchanted copper vase until the Dark One—a vastly different sorcerer than she recalled—had appeared before her and offered her a deal she could not pass up.

After her other cohort had met his untimely demise—though she can hardly fault the young girl that had eventually taken his life; he  _was_  a bit off his rocker, and he was far more of a liability than an asset, to be honest—she had withdrawn from the so-called band of heroes and took some time to regroup.

She was well aware that her opponents were convinced they had dealt her a heavy blow by disposing of George, but in all honesty, she was only relieved to be rid of him. She had only befriended him and invited into her bed to tie his loyalties to her; it was, after all, her expertise.

His death was somewhat unexpected, but not devastating.

The fact that she managed to take the little boy and so distracted the aim of their search was but a lucky coincidence. She took him, initially, because she could  _sense_  an inordinate amount of natural magic in him—it was not until later, when she tried to draw it out by overstimulating his senses, that she realized it was not the boy's magic that she could sense.

He was connected to it, yes, but it was not  _his_.

Once she had realized that, she quickly lost her interest in him and gave him to the Dark One.

It was then that she began hiding in plain sight, to search for the source of the incredible kind of magic that protected the boy, and the town, as she later realized, from harm.

It had only taken her a short while to realize that it was the girl—the one that had killed George—who possessed a kind of magic she had never encountered before. At first, she had been rather taken aback by its raw power, but then the demon that had long since claimed ownership of her soul had reared its ugly, greedy head and decided that, instead of simply reclaiming the lands that had once been hers to rule, they would also claims the girl's soul, and, subsequently, her magic.

She recalls how she had briefly attempted to resist the lure of drawing another innocent soul into the hell she herself had been drawn into as a mere girl—but her resistance had been short-lived and futile. Her soul had not been fully human in many,  _many_  years, and she had not truly felt any sort of emotion for far longer than that.

Even now, it is difficult to recall anything of her last night as a simple human girl; the last night of the old year—she only knows that it had been freezing, and that she could no longer feel her little toes and fingers. She remembers the matches that she had been obliged to sell, and her own inability to do so—and she remembers dying.

She recalls waking the next day—the new year—as something new and terrifying and powerful.

Something  _inhuman_.

Her musings are interrupted as the Dark One—Rumpelstiltskin, she reminds herself—appears before her, a triumphant grin on his lips as he holds out a small, glass vial with what appear to be two entwined hairs.

"We are ready," he cackles, "and the human sacrifice will be taken care of by our dear heroes themselves."

She nods curtly—after all, she has no interest in anything but regaining what was hers before she was locked in her copper prison—and takes the glass vial from his hand before turning to the mirror she had mounted against one of the cold stone walls.

"Excellent," she muses, studying her own reflection, "It is time we were granted what we deserve."

.

.

.

**The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time**

He's not certain when he realized that things were not going according to plan; after all, his entire being was focused on the love of his life—but he knows it was not until it was too late. He recalls seeing Leia and Regina exchange a look—a look that says more than an entire conversation would have—and then, suddenly, Regina takes a step back, dragging Elsa with her. It's no more than a split-second—but that split-second is all Leia and Regina needed to make a decision that would save all their lives.

All but Leia's.

As Regina steps back—and he steps forward, a protest ready to fall from his lips—a loud shattering sound makes them all freeze, his heart skipping a beat as he realizes that he just heard the Spell of Shattered Sight being cast. And then, before he gets the chance to do  _anything_ —not that he had any sort of plan or idea to execute—he gets pushed back, stumbling into Emma and her parents as he watches in horror as his daughter seals the protection spell—with her still on the outside.

He barely hears Emma's horrified cry as he hurries towards the barrier—all of his attention focused on the girl standing on the other side of the barrier, tall and beautiful and  _strong_  and  _brave_ —and so goddamn  _stubborn._

"Leia, no," Killian pleads, stumbling forward to press his hand against the warm, invisible barrier that separates him and Emma and the rest of Storybrooke from Leia—and from the Spell of Shattered Sight, that is hurdling towards them. "Don't," he chokes, "there's another way, there  _has_  to be another way."

"There isn't," Leia smiles weakly, her eyes teary but determined, strong and unwavering and if she wouldn't be on a damn suicide mission, he'd be proud of her. "I can do this. This is why I came back. I can save  _everyone_."

"Not at your expense," Emma cries desperately from beside him, pressing her hands—glowing bright with magic in a desperate attempt to break through their daughter's shield—, "There's another way, Leia. There's  _always_ another one." There's desperation and heartbreak in her voice and he  _can't_  stand it, can't stand the idea of their daughter  _dying_ , even to protect the entire town.

He doesn't care about the entire town, he just wants his girl to be safe.

His  _family_.

"There's no time," Leia sobs sadly, a soft, heart-breaking smile tugging on her lips, her hand pressed to the shield over his and Emma's, "If I don't do this, the Spell will tear  _all_  of you apart. This way, it's just me."

The dark, purple and black clouds, shimmering with silver shards of glass, are approaching fast behind her, and he feels sick at the mere notion of those shards harming even a single hair on her head. "Little love, please don't do this," he whispers, ignoring the fact that a dozen or so people are probably listening in on the increasingly private conversation, "please… We can—we can find a way that doesn't require  _anyone_  dying."

Before he finishes speaking, she is shaking her head, and tears are rolling down her cheeks—and he can tell she is as frightened as he is. "I'm going to do this," she says quietly, but determinedly, "and I need you to know that I love you," she sobs—she's tearing his guts out, he  _can't_   _breathe,_  he can barely  _see_  through the desperate, angry,  _frightened_  tears clouding his sight—, "I love you both so much," Leia continues, "and I'm not afraid…"

Emma drops her forehead to the barrier, sobbing as she pleads for Leia to break the Spell, but their daughter continues, her voice strong and unwavering despite the fact that he is about to watch his little girl  _die_  and he can't do a damn thing about it.

He doesn't think he will survive seeing another loved one die.

"Leia," he chokes, "Leia, please."

"I love you," she whispers, pressing her hand to the barrier where his lays, "Don't look."

And he obeys.

He doesn't look.

He clutches Emma's hand in his, crying silently as he listens—as he listens to Leia reaffirming the protection spell she placed around the town, listens to the Spell of Shattered Sight hurtling closer—and listens to Leia's strangled, pained cry when it hits.

And when the protection spell shatters as Leia breathes her last—so does he.


	13. AUTHORS NOTE + SNEAK PEEK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey darlings.
> 
> While I am still very excited to write this story; and I am still writing, I promise; I'll have to delay posting for a bit.  
> I just got surgery on my stomach yesterday, and while I am very well and recovering nicely, it is very tiring, and I don't see myself being able to write for long periods of time just yet.
> 
> I'll have to stop updating, unlike I'd planned, for at least a month-but I will be using that time to finish this story. It's just about finished-it's outlined and planned, it just needs writing.
> 
> I hope you guys all understand, and I hope you'll all stick with me.
> 
> I'm sorry I have to do this, but my health has to come first.
> 
> Here's a quick sneak peek though, to tie you over until I can start updating again.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Annaelle.

Emma can feel the exact moment Leia's heart stops beating.

It's a heart wrenching, unerring realization, but she knows—she knows the very instant she can feel the clear, impenetrable shield Leia has conjured shatter beneath her bruised palms—she knows when she watches her daughter's body drop like a puppet whose strings were cut.

She knows when her knees nearly buckle as the pressure that is holding her upright suddenly disappears.

She knows when she hears Killian's agonized cry as he reaches their daughter's now lifeless body.

She nearly chokes on the silent tears that run down her cheeks as she drops to her knees next to Killian, her fingers trembling as she reaches to wipe away the thin line of blood that trickles from the corner of Leia's mouth. It hits her then, how even in death, her daughter is almost unfairly beautiful—even with her eyes glazed over, the colour frozen halfway between green and blue, her skin unearthly pale and her limbs spread out in unnatural angles.

And it seems so wrong.

So incredibly, horrifyingly wrong.

How is it possible that Leia, who was young and beautiful and strong and good, had to die to bring some semblance of Happy Endings back to them?

She barely registers Killian repeatedly pressing his lips all over Leia's face, begging her to wake up, to come back to them—it doesn't occur until much later that he's attempting to wake their daughter with another True Love's Kiss. When it does finally occur to her, she cannot even muster up the energy to feel annoyed with him—why would she? He truly loves their daughter, even after only knowing of her existence for mere weeks.

It has worked before.

At least he has the faith to try again—he has faith in his love for their child. She wishes she would have had that kind of faith. She wishes she could say the same—perhaps if she'd had that kind of faith in her love for Leia, Leia would never have felt the need to travel back in time and fix things. Leia wouldn't have sacrificed her own life and Happy Ending for Emma's.

Emma doesn't know how long she and Killian sit on the cold, wet grass, cradling their daughter in their arms, before her parents reach them.

It could have been hours, even days—she doesn't know.

She doesn't care.

Leia is dead.

"Emma. Killian." Her father's voice is soft and gentle, as is his hand when he lays it on her shoulder, but it is also a sharp stab to her heart, to remind her of a reality she doesn't want to know.

A reality so grave and horrible it has cost her daughter her life.


	14. Chapter Eleven—She's Leaving Home—Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> I do apologize for the long for this chapter. As I said before (in the sneak peek) I had a surgery to recover from, so I didn't have much time to write. Also, I had a lot of trouble finding the right words for this chapter, and the next-given the very emotional content of the chapters, and the absolute heartbreak the writers are inflicting upon us with last week's cliffhanger-, which I hope will be beta'd and finished soon.
> 
> Thanks for your continued support on this story.
> 
> Also, I am sure that everyone has heard about the horrible things that have been happening in the world, and I'd like to offer up my two cents. While I am European and much closer to the tragedies in Paris, I do feel for EVERYONE who has been affected by the War on Terror, as papers are calling it now, and I will pray for everyone.
> 
> If any of you are unfortunate enough to be caught in this fight, I wish you all the best and all the strength you may need.
> 
> I love all of you!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Annaelle
> 
> PS This was beta'd by the amazing DancingDoula! Thank you, darling, for letting me overwhelm you with stupid questions about the next few chapters and all things Captain Swan :D

Chapter Eleven—She's Leaving Home—Part I

_Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins_  
Silently closing her bedroom door  
Leaving the note that she hoped would say more  
She goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief  
Quietly turning the backdoor key  
Stepping outside, she is free

_—She's Leaving Home, The Beatles_

Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future

RPOV

When he awakes, he doesn't realize something is amiss until he stretches an arm across the bed to draw his wife— _finally a wife he'll be happy with_ —into his arms. When he opens his eyes, he realizes that he is resting comfortably on a mountain of pillows, the sheets twisted loosely around his waist—and he is alone in the room. The scene is not one he is unfamiliar with; Leia is a terribly light sleeper, and once she is awake, there is very little that can soothe her mind enough to allow her to sleep again.

He cannot count the amount of times he'd woken alone in their tent, while Leia was already up.

Of course, he had hoped she would have slept peacefully last night—at least enough so that he would not be waking alone on their first morn' as husband and wife. He smiles as he recalls seeing her walk down the aisle towards him, ready to pledge her life to his; she had been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—then again, he always thinks she is the most beautiful woman in existence—and he had considered himself the luckiest man in existence for having her love.

He's broken from his thoughts by the soft click of the bedroom door, followed by the soft patter of footsteps heading straight for the bed.

"Good morning," she breathes, and he feels the bed dip as she crawls back on top of it. He knows she is approaching him, but he doesn't feel she moves fast enough, so he moves faster than he'd have thought he could, rolls over, grabs Leia and wraps his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body as he buries his face in her hair.

She squeals and smacks his arm—which only makes him smile—before draping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Hi beautiful," he whispers in response, tightening his grip on her. "Where were you?" He asks, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout, "I woke up all by myself in this large bed—on the morning after our wedding night." He pretends to glare at her and says, "I must not have done a good enough job last night if you still felt like leaving the bed."

She giggles and taps his bottom lip playfully. "I was merely arranging for our breakfast to be brought up here. I didn't think you would want to get up and dressed just yet," she adds with a wink.

He chuckles and closes his eyes as she settles comfortably in his arms, reveling in how  _good_ and  _right_ it feels. "You know I'd much prefer waking up with you in my arms though," he muses quietly, "Please stay next time?"

She grins, and nods against his chest. "Of course, darling. I rather enjoy waking up next to you as well. I promise I'll wait for you to wake as well next time." He smiles happily and presses his lips firmly to her temple, securely wrapping her in his arms as he does so.

Leia allows a contented sigh to fall from her lips—something that ensures basking in their happiness for a few more hours is quite easy. It is almost too easy to ignore the problems and responsibilities that await them outside of their bedchambers; but he honestly does not care as long as he and Leia can be together like this.

He is happy.

He doesn't allow thoughts of Leia's plans to leave soon to sneak their way into his mind—doesn't allow himself to think about anything but the woman in his arms.

"We will have to get up eventually," Leia breathes after a short, comfortable silence as she nuzzles into his embrace. He growls in protest at the mere notion, tightening his arms around her—he has no intention of going out to face reality today.

He's staying right here.

"Nope," he replies flippantly, pulling out of their embrace just far enough to look at Leia, "We are not leaving this bed." She raises an eyebrow at him, attempting to hide the amused smile that was pulling at the corner of her lips. He smirks at her and flips her onto her back, wedging his body between her thighs.

"No one is going to miss us until at least dinner time," he whispers against her lips, "we are, after all, expected to consummate our marriage."

He grins when she does and leans down to kiss her again, and proceeds to do just that.

.

.

.

_Three weeks later_

It feels like only hours ago, Roland muses, as he watches his beloved wife gather the ingredients she needs to cast the spell to return to the past, that they were in their marital bed, consummating their marriage. Of course, it has been over three weeks since the morn' of their first day as husband and wife, but he cannot help but feel like time has sped by all too fast for his liking.

And now, his wife is going on a journey where he cannot follow, and the mere thought of it still distresses him greatly.

He attempts not to contemplate it too much.

They are standing in the gardens that surround the castle, tucked away in a far and private corner, where there should be no unexpected run-ins with curious servants or nosy nobles. Leia and Henry had managed to keep her pending departure somewhat private, and though it pains Roland that he'll have to be without her for God knows how long, he'll keep his mouth shut about her true intentions as well.

None of them want to risk word getting 'round to the Dark One—they all know that he'd either bargain a favor out of them, or even kill one of them to prevent Leia from going back in time and changing things.

He watches Leia adjust one more thing inside the salt circle she'd created, nervously eyeing some of the ingredients she had procured—he still does not see the need for a leaf from a beanstalk (took him and his men two days to get the damn thing  _off_ the beanstalk in the first place, and that had been with the men that hadn't decided to stay behind out of pure fear for the giant that resided at the top), but Leia had assured him that it was a vital piece of the spell.

Something about being touched by True Love and magical spells and all that.

He could scarcely keep up with her when she started talking about magic and spells, so he mostly nodded along with whatever she said and hoped that she wasn't talking about something she actually needed to discuss with him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks her hesitantly when she finally turns to face him, her eyes bright and green—he's still not used to her eyes turning that violent shade of green—but he still sees a minor bit of apprehension and fear shining through, and he knows that she needs him to stand with her on this. He knows that if he asks her to stay, she will—but he also knows that this is something she needs to do, and he's never been one to hold her back from doing what she needs.

She smiles at him, but the smile is forced, and he can see the underlying sadness, before she looks down at her feet. He knows that the idea of being apart from one another weighs upon her mind as it does his, and he knows that if she hadn't felt as though she needed this, she would never leave him—but she does and she must.

"I need to do this," she whispers, her voice soft and almost apologetic, her tears glassy with unshed tears as they once again meet his gaze.

He nods, stepping closer to her—as close as he can, with the salt line separating them—reaching out to touch her. "I know," he sighs, "I know. But... If this works... If you change the past, our lives will be different—we could... There's a possibility we would never meet." Speaking the words aloud pains him more than he'd like to admit, but it is a legitimate concern that has been plaguing his mind since the first time she brought up her plan.

"I don't believe that," she exclaims, rushing over the salt line to grasp his hands in her smaller ones, "I love you—and I will always find you, as you will with me."

He nods wordlessly, strengthened by her words, and leans forward to press a kiss to her lips before lightly touching the silver necklace on which she'd hung her wedding ring, as to not lose it. "Be careful," he orders, though his voice is still gentle and calm, "Promise me you'll come back to me."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath when her slender fingers close around his wrist briefly, her forehead resting against his as she whispers, "I promise."

"Good," he chuckles a little, biting his lip as he takes a step back, gently pushing her back into the circle, "Good. Now go. It's your turn to be the hero." He watches as she nods bravely, her hands only shaking a little when she raises them, her lips moving wordlessly as she begins casting her spell. He can feel her magic, swirling around him, the air thickening with its electric charge, white light steadily building up inside of the circle until he can see nothing—only white...

And then it's gone, and he falls to his knees at the sudden change in the air—and he is alone.

.

.

.

The Docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time

Emma can  _feel_ the exact moment Leia's heart stops beating. It's a heart wrenching, unerring realization, but she  _knows_ —she knows the very instant she can feel the clear, impenetrable shield Leia had conjured shatter beneath her bruised palms—she knows when she watches her daughter's body drop like a puppet whose strings were cut.

She knows when her knees nearly buckle as the pressure that is holding her upright suddenly disappears.

She knows when she hears Killian's agonized cry as he reaches their daughter's now lifeless body.

She nearly chokes on the silent tears that run down her cheeks as she drops to her knees next to Killian, her fingers trembling as she reaches to wipe away the thin line of blood that trickles from the corner of Leia's mouth.

It hits her then, how even in death, her daughter is almost unfairly beautiful—even with her eyes glazed over, the colour frozen halfway between green and blue, her skin unearthly pale and her limbs spread out in unnatural angles.

And it seems so  _wrong_.

So incredibly, horrifyingly  _wrong_.

How is it possible that Leia, who was  _young_ and  _beautiful_ and  _strong_ and  _good_ , had to  _die_ to bring some semblance of Happy Endings back to them?

She barely registers Killian repeatedly pressing his lips all over Leia's face, begging her to wake up, to come back to them—it doesn't occur until much later that he's attempting to wake their daughter with another True Love's Kiss. When it does finally occur to her, she cannot even muster up the energy to feel annoyed with him—why would she?

He truly loves their daughter, even after only knowing of her existence for mere weeks.

It has worked before.

At least he has the faith to try again—he has faith in his love for their child.

She wishes she would have had that kind of faith.

She wishes she could say the same—perhaps if she'd had that kind of faith in her love for Leia, Leia would never have felt the need to travel back in time and fix things. Leia wouldn't have sacrificed her own life and Happy Ending for Emma's.

Emma doesn't know how long she and Killian sit on the cold, wet grass, cradling their daughter in their arms, before her parents reach them.

It could have been hours, even days—she doesn't know.

She doesn't  _care_.

Leia is  _dead_.

"Emma. Killian." Her father's voice is soft and gentle, as is his hand when he lays it on her shoulder, but it is also a sharp stab to her heart, to remind her of a reality she doesn't want to know.

A reality so grave and horrible it has cost her daughter her life.

"No," she chokes, tightening her grip on Leia's limp hand, "No, no, no, no."

"Emma," her father pleads gently, kneeling next to her, "we need to take the—we need to take Leia somewhere else. Somewhere  _private_ ," he stresses, and though she hears the words, she feels strangely dazed—as though nothing is really registering in her brain.

Nothing could possibly be important enough to register.

And nothing does, either. She feels so…  _numb_ —it almost feel as though she's not really there; as though her body is there,  _feeling_ and  _knowing_ and  _shattering_ … 

But her mind isn't.

Not really.

The pain she feels is almost…  _Bearable_ , and she wonders if that is just shock, or something different, something infinitely more terrifying.

Maybe she's been broken and beaten so many times in her life that she just doesn't really feel anymore—maybe that's her brain's way of coping. Maybe she's just shutting down; maybe she wouldn't even mind so much, if that meant not feeling the gut-wrenching ache that is lodged where her heart once was—because even when she only feels a shadow of her real feelings, she knows that that pain would destroy her, if she let herself feel it.

"Emma," her mother has joined them now, her hand small and soft against Emma's shoulder, while her father turns his attention to Killian, "we can't stay here—they might come here."

The mere mention of the Ice Queen and Rumple sets fire to her anger, and it feels like liquid rage pours through her veins—her magic starts humming furiously in the back of her mind, and she has to consciously stop herself from unleashing it on whoever is unfortunate enough to be anywhere near her.

"Let them," she hisses, startling when she doesn't recognize the sound of her own voice—she almost sounds like the Dark One had back in the Enchanted Forest. She doesn't look at her when she feels her mother recoil in surprise—instead, she focuses on the treeline, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she senses another magical being approaching.

It seems she'd gotten her wish.

They did come here.

In the back of her mind, a little voice insists that this feels too coincidental—why would they come so soon? Rumpelstiltskin would be smart enough to not show hide nor hair near them after casting a curse on them; it must be the Ice Queen, coming to gloat…

Unless they don't know.

They don't know that the Curse failed—that Leia protected the town.

"Emma, no," her dad's voice sounds like it's coming from far away, and there is a small voice in the back of her head that agrees with her father, that tells her she needs to back down, that she is making a big mistake—but the voice is easily drowned out by the fire that is racing through her veins, the magic that is humming just beneath her skin.

Her blood is boiling, and when she looks up, she finally understands the saying, 'seeing red', because her entire vision is tinted in a scarlet glow, and all she can focus on is her  _daughter's_ heartwrenching scream when the Spell had hit and killed her—the look on Killian's face as he was forced to listen to another loved one dying—and the disgusting prideful grin on the Ice Queen's face as she regards the devastation she has caused. That horrid woman had orchestrated the destruction of their family—of her  _life_ —because it suits her so-called rightful quest for the throne. 

She is going to make her  _pay_ for what she has done.

Something is stirring deep inside of her, something dark and dangerous and  _powerful_ —and it scares her how much she  _loves_ the feel of it. She vaguely wonders if  _this_ is what Leia had meant when she said that the magic, no matter how light, could go dark in an instant.

But even with that warning in the back of her head, she  _wants_ this power. She is stronger like this— _better_ —and she can  _protect_ when she is like this. She can keep her parents and her son and her pirate safe—and no one would blame her for it.

They will all understand.

The Ice Queen have decided to up the ante to them-or-us.

And Emma is not going to let that frozen bitch take  _anyone else_ from her.

The Ice Queen is now so close, Emma can  _feel_ the slight drop in temperature and see the tiny droplets of frozen water on her white dress—they sparkle prettily in the sun, and it reminds Emma of a world filled with beauty and happiness.

A world Leia died for.

It seems almost ironic to consider the Ice Queen's beauty—had the woman not been the one responsible for her daughter's death, Emma may actually have been dumbstruck by the woman's regal, classically beautiful features. It is easy to imagine many a man—and woman—walking straight into hell for the Ice Queen.

She vaguely wonders if that is how the Ice Queen managed to defeat them in Leia's timeline—not with violence, but with a charm so subtle they didn't see the danger until it was too late.

"Such a pity," the Ice Queen chimes when she is close enough, her expression something quite akin to regret as she takes in Leia's body, "she was powerful. I could have used a sorceress like her in my court." There is a hint of possessive wistfulness in the woman's voice that completely  _infuriates_ Emma.

"She was  _my daughter_ , you bitch," Emma hisses, "and you killed her."

The Ice Queen simply smiles and shrugs. "It couldn't be helped. You and yours decided to fight me; if only you had submitted, there would have been no need for violence and curses."

"You should have stayed in that urn," Emma spits, barely recognizing her own voice as the words fall from her lips, "You messed with the wrong family." She can feel the magic build up in her palms, and her eyes nearly roll back into her head—she had no idea using her magic could feel so  _good_ , so  _addictive_.

The roar of her power is deafening, and it is  _easy_ to drown out the shouts of her parents—they would only protest against what  _needs_ to be done.

Before she is even aware that she has moved, her hands are raised, and blinding white light shoots from her heated palms, knocking the Ice Queen over before the woman gets the chance to react.

She takes a few steps closer, surprising—and frightening—herself by how much she  _enjoys_  the fear that lingers in the Ice Queen cold, pale eyes.

"You did this," she speaks, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage, "You  _ruined_ our lives. You  _killed_ Ruby, and Leia—you've tried to kill  _all_ of us. And if I let you go, you'll try to do it again. So I'm going to stop you." She raises her hand again, unaware of anything but the  _delicious_ feeling of  _power_ and  _magic_ rushing through her veins as she crushes it against the Ice Queen's pale throat.

She increases the pressure ever so slightly, a sick kind of satisfaction washing over her as she watches the Ice Queen struggle against her magic—struggle to breathe.

She idly wonders how Leia managed the urge to use her magic like this  _always_ —how she managed  _not_ to kill everyone who stood in her way—before deciding that she can't dispose of the woman this easily.

No.

That horrible bitch needs to suffer—she had conspired to brutally  _murder_ her entire family. The woman  _killed_ her daughter. She bares her teeth in a growl and jumps closer to her, reaching out towards the woman's chest.

It seems only fair she'd return the favor now.

Her blood sings in her veins as she leans forward, her breath washing over the Ice Queen's now terrified face. "I will enjoy this," she whispers, taking delight in the pleasurable tingle the magic sent throughout her body.

She glances back towards her parents, who looked positively aghast and terrified for the very first time—and though it makes her feel just a tad unsettled, it is not quite enough to make her stop.

She eyes them before saying, "Don't look. This will be nasty."

And she turns back to the Queen, abruptly sinking her hand into her chest, enjoying her cries and whimpers of pain, until her fingers wrap around the woman's icy heart. 

She looks up into those pale, blue eyes and smiles coldly.

"No last words,  _your Majesty_?"

Something flickers in the woman's eyes when Emma speaks those words, as Emma's fingers tighten around the woman's heart, and the colour of her eyes changes nearly imperceptibly, almost as though she is watching frozen ice thaw. 

An imperceptible dark mist seems to abandon the woman’s body as Emma squeezes the heart in her hand tighter, her nails digging into the fragile surface. "Thank you," the woman chokes after a deep, shuddering breath, a small, confused smile appearing on her lips, "For setting me free. Thank you."

And then the woman's heart is suddenly  _ash_ in her hand, slipping through the cracks of her fingers as she stares at it in wonder and horror.

She killed someone.

She  _killed_.

What did she  _do_?

.

.

.

A few hours later—Charming’s Loft—Storybrooke, Maine

Snow White has always considered herself a strong woman.

A woman unafraid to fight for those she loves—unafraid to fight for the people of the kingdom she grew up in—the kingdom her father had left her after his death.

She's been dealt her own hand at tragedy in her life, and while she is aware that she may not always have dealt with grief and pain in the best way, she does know that her many trials and tribulations have only made her stronger.

She's survived two separations from her daughter—her  _beautiful_ ,  _fierce_ ,  _strong_ Emma—three curses, plenty of near-death experiences and nearly twenty years of her stepmother attempting to kill her.

If anything, Snow White knows what it feels like to suffer, and how to survive it.

But right now, she cannot, for the life of her, imagine the kind of agony her daughter and her apparently future son-in-law—provided they all manage to survive this latest threat—are in right now. She cannot imagine the heart wrenching pain Emma and Killian must be feeling right now; she had felt like her heart was breaking just by  _watching_ them—she had not even known Leia that well.

She cannot possibly begin to comprehend how it must feel for Emma and Killian.

But she does know that they don't have much time to sit about and weep, despite how much she wishes she could give them both all the time in the world to grieve the daughter they'd only just realized they had—would have…

She's not entirely sure how  _that_ works with the time traveling.

The Dark One is still out there, waiting, plotting way to destroy their Happy Endings in a desperate attempt to regain his own.

Currently, she is standing in her own bedroom, rocking her baby to sleep after he'd woken up screaming—and Snow can't help but worry that he too had felt the effects of one of their family members dying a violent death.

She knows that her husband is still attempting to coax a very uncooperative pirate from Leia's lifeless body, and that Emma probably hasn't moved from her spot on the floor by the window, where she'd dropped herself when she and David took her and Hook back to the loft. She'd been reluctant to have a body in the same loft as her baby at first, but when she'd tried to voice that opinion, she swore both Emma and Hook nearly killed her with the hateful looks they sent her way.

Eventually, she had decided it was not worth aggravating her daughter and the pirate over—especially since Hook hadn't said a single word since the protection spell had broken; he had just cried silently, cradling his future daughter's body in his arms as though she were a newborn child—as though he could protect her from the evil in the world by simply wrapping her in his arms.

Emma hadn't been more eloquent than her lover after she had  _freed_ —because it is easier to think of Emma  _freeing_ a soul from an old demon than  _killing_ a woman—the Ice Queen, and though it frustrates Snow, because she can't figure out what they need, what she can do to make it better, she cannot truly blame either of them. She knows that they're both in a state of severe shock—they're probably not even truly grasping what happened.

Snow has to admit that  _she_ isn't even quite grasping what had happened.

She hadn't even realized who Leia was until David had whispered it in her ear.

To be honest, she hadn't truly grasped what Leia was doing either, when she sealed the protection spell, despite being on the outside, and being seconds away from being torn apart by a dangerous curse—not until David's whispered clarification had she realized why Killian and Emma had been pounding on the barrier and shouting and pleading for Leia to change her mind.

And now, here she stands, unsure of what to  _say_ or do or even  _feel_ —because Leia was her granddaughter; and even if Snow didn't know who she was at the time, Leia sacrificed herself to save  _her_ life and Killian's and dozens of others in the town (and the memory of Ruby, her dear, beloved friend, doing the same makes her stomach roll, and makes her want to curl up in a corner and cry until she has no tears left to shed).

She looks up when David shuffles into the room, his eyes red and his cheeks tearstained, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "Emma is with Killian," he whispers hoarsely, "though I don't think she joined us to get him away from the body."

Snow exhales shakily, allowing her husband to take their son from her arms before she collapses on their bed. "I don't know what we can do for them," she admits reluctantly, rubbing her hands over her arms, "I just... I don't know what to do to help them."

"I don't think there's anything we can do," David replies sadly while he attempts to rock Graham back to sleep, "we can't bring her back, we can't change the past—the Ice Queen's dead, George is gone, Rumpelstiltskin is in hiding somewhere; it's not like there's anyone left to punish for what happened. Leia's gone, and she died saving us all—and they, as well as the rest of us, need to learn to live with it." She watches as he swallows thickly and presses a kiss to their baby sons head before he whispers, "The only way I know to honour her sacrifice is to live the life she wanted us to have."

She nods shakily, watching as her husband lays their son into his crib gently, covering his little body with his favourite blanket—it's embroided with pirate ships and had been a gag gift from Killian, but it had quickly become their son's favourite (much to her amusement and David's annoyance).

She sinks into him when he sits next to her, his arm sliding over her shoulder to hold her to him.

They sit in silence for a few moments, both trying to accept the monumental changes that occurred today—Snow's almost certain she's having a harder time at it than David is; she's always had a harder time accepting changes (she supposes that is where Emma got the trait as well).

She is about to suggest they check on Emma and Killian one last time before they retire to bed themselves when they hear someone bustle down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet about it.

"Emma?" Snow frowns, rising from her seat to see what all the fuss is about. She's slightly confused to find her daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen, a large pan already on the fire, Emma's hand hovering over it, a large spell book open on the counter next to her. "What are you doing, honey?"

She winces a little at the look of pure pain and determination in her daughter's red-rimmed eyes, but decidedly ignores the mascara streaks on her cheeks and watches as Emma pulls open a drawer and rummages around in it. "We're taking her home," Emma finally answers, her voice still slightly shaky and unsure, "maybe if we can get her home, Roland can save her. And if he—" she chokes a little and bites her lip before continuing, "at least she'll be home. They deserve to know what happened to her too. We're taking her home."


End file.
